


A Soft Blur

by agetwellcard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actor Sam, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Past Torture, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, Shrunkyclunks, Touch-Starved, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, photographer bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agetwellcard/pseuds/agetwellcard
Summary: After recovering from his time in the army, Bucky is a successful photographer who is trying to forget his past. Two weeks after Steve's return, he accidentally spills his champagne on Bucky at a charity event. It brings them together at a time when the two of them need each other the most.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh okay so I'm finally writing my shrunkyclunks fic that I've always wanted to do! It was meant to be a oneshot but it's gotten out of hand so I figured I'd just put it up in chapters instead. 
> 
> Beside a mediocre photography class in high school, I really don't know that much about photography, so if anything is offensively wrong feel free to let me know.

The first time Bucky photographs him, it’s two weeks after his defrosting.

It’s at some charity event that Bucky had just barely nabbed an invite for. It’s Steve Roger’s first public appearance since his press conference announcing his return. Bucky had to borrow one of Sam’s old tuxes for the event and it is slightly too small for Bucky.

Everyone wants a photograph of him because he’s goddamn Captain America miraculously back from the dead. He’s lit up like a Christmas tree with all the camera flashes, but he keeps his head down until he flashes one quick, nervous smile that sends the press photographers into a frenzy.

Bucky doesn’t even bother to try to weed through the crowd to get a shot. Instead, he goes further down the press gate and takes a tasteful photograph of a popular musician that’s in front of Steve on the red carpet. Still, though, Bucky can’t help but to keep sneaking glances at Steve, intrigued and a little alarmed by his presence. When Bucky was in the army, he remembers seeing Steve’s face all over the recruitment posters. He never thought he’d see him alive and in the flesh.

The Steve from the poster is much different from the one in front of him. Without the Captain America suit, there’s something quiet and unsure about his presence. He starts walking to the next hoard of cameras, his handler guiding him, and Bucky holds up his camera to take a quick shot of him. He has him lined up in the viewfinder, but then he stops, finger pausing on the shutter button. Steve looks so vulnerable and small, and Bucky doesn’t want that.

Instead, Bucky watches him walk on, head bent and hands deep in his pockets.

Later, Bucky is one of the few photographers who is actually allowed into the ballroom, and he skirts around the party and takes quiet candids of random celebrities and political figures. Either all of them ignore him or they just don’t even notice him. Bucky feels good about the photographs he’s taken so far, though, and he stops real quick to scan through the ones he’s taken. He’s admiring one of a beautiful actress laughing at something one of her friends was saying when someone jostles into him.

He feels the champagne before he realizes it’s been spilled on him. Blinking, he looks up to find Steve Rogers with his jaw dropped and a half-empty flute of champagne in his grip.

“Oh jeez,” he says, looking horrified. “I – Sorry. I was trying to find someone and I wasn’t looking where I was going and I – ”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says abruptly, brain finally clicking on. His camera is dry, so that’s all that really matters. His white button up, though, has a growing wet spot that Steve looks at with a forlorn expression.

“I ruined your shirt,” he points out, shoulders sagging.

Bucky stares stupidly at the stain and then back at Steve Rogers, who is casually talking to him after spilling champagne on him. It’s the most exciting moment Bucky’s had in months, and yet he still manages to awkwardly fumble through it.

“Be right back,” Steve assures him, turning around to walk back into the crowd.

Bucky is half-tempted to hide in the bathroom in embarrassment. He’s still debating the pros and cons of vanishing on Steve Rogers when he comes back, holding a handful of napkins. With no preamble, he gently presses them to Bucky’s chest, right over the spot. “I’m really sorry,” he says again, face red.

Not sure what to do, Bucky grips his camera tighter and watches dumbly as Steve dabs the stain with rapt concentration.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” he assures Steve. The poor guys looks like he’s half a second from crying, and Bucky refuses to be the guy that makes Steve Rogers cry.

Steve seems mildly relieved to hear this and he even drops his hands from Bucky’s chest, but he’s still frowning. “I’m still sorry. This is just all new to me and I get nervous and – ” He stops himself, suddenly holding out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

He takes the offered hand. “Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve tells him, a small smile on his face. His eyes drop then, to the camera around Bucky’s neck. “Oh, you’re a photographer.”

Bucky looks down stupidly to his own camera and then back up. “Yeah, I am.”

He waits for the cringe or a quick getaway since that’s what always happens when celebrities find out that he’s a photographer. He’ll always be the enemy, and he’s okay with it and has accepted it, but he likes Steve, even if he spilled champagne all over him.

The thing is, he doesn’t leave. Instead, Steve awkwardly stuffs the damp napkins into his pocket and then stands up straighter. “Okay, then go ahead.”

“What?”

“Take my photo.”

Bucky feels his face grow red. “Oh, no. I wasn’t – you don’t have to.”

“I owe you. Come on. Ease my conscience,” Steve tells him, a smirk on his face.

Bucky can’t help but to huff out a laugh and hold up his camera. Steve stands awkwardly in front of him, shoulder tense and the smirk now gone. Instead, he’s barely smiling. Bucky still takes a few pictures, moving around a bit. Steve gets smaller and smaller with each shutter click, though, and Bucky eventually has to go, “You look like I’m holding a gun up to your head.”

Steve breaks into laugher, shaking his head and looking past the camera lens. Bucky takes the opportunity to get a few more pictures before Steve can hold himself so rigid like before. He lowers the camera, Steve still smiling warmly at him.

“I probably look goofy in those,” Steve says shyly.

Bucky is already clicking through the shots. He shakes his head at Steve. “No, they look good, but if you want you can go through them and delete the ones you don’t want.” Bucky shouldn’t be offering, not really, because you’re not supposed to have a conscious when you have this job. Steve seems so vulnerable, though, and he can’t bear for him to actually feel used by Bucky.

“I trust you,” Steve tells him quietly.

Bucky knows he should probably tell him that he shouldn’t trust most photographers, but he keeps his mouth shut because of the soft look Steve gives him.

“I should probably get going, though. I think I still have, like, fifty people to meet,” he says apologetically. “Do you have a, um, business card or something?”

Pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, Bucky finds one of the business cards he admittedly never hands out and gives it to Steve. He gives Bucky another smile. “Sorry again about your shirt,” Steve says before walking away and back into the party.

***

The next morning, Bucky trudges to the kitchen in his pajamas and his laptop tucked under his arm. He blinks a few times when he first sees Sam at the stove but eventually slumps into a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Morning,” Sam says, turning around and comically tipping his cowboy hat at Bucky. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, a thin t-shirt, and the cowboy hat.

Bucky grunts at him, accepting the mug of coffee that Sam puts down in the front of. “Creamer?” Bucky asks, too lazy to get up.

Sam rolls his eyes but gets it for him.

They’ve lived together since Bucky got out of the army. While Bucky had just tried his hardest to stay afloat, Sam had been booking acting job after acting job, quickly rising in status. Bucky had feared that Sam would drop him as a friend, but he never did. He even chose to not live in a better apartment like he could afford so that Bucky could still pay half the rent.

It’s only after Bucky has chugged half of the coffee and turned on his laptop that he finally asks, “You auditioning for a Brokeback Mountain reboot?”

“Very funny,” Sam says. “It’s actually this whole new take on Westerns by this very popular director that I can’t even tell you about.”

Bucky hums, unimpressed. “Sounds crazy.”

Sam, despite there never being any proof that it actually helps him, always tries this half-assed method acting bullshit for at least two weeks before he gives up. The cowboy hat is only the beginning. Bucky is already fearing the southern accent that’s sure to come.

“Just wait, you’ll have to take all of my press photos when I get the gig,” Sam tells him knowingly, sitting down next to Bucky at the breakfast bar with his plate of scrambled eggs. He peers over at Bucky’s laptop screen as he scrolls through the shots from last night.

They both quietly look through the photos until the ones of Steve pop up.

“Holy shit,” Sam says, putting down his fork and leaning in closer to the screen. “That’s him. That’s Captain America.”

Bucky clicks to the next photo, to the one of Steve laughing, gaze slightly past the camera. There’s a soft blur to him, since he was moving, but Bucky can’t help but to stop and stare at it.

“Damn, did you get to talk to him?” Sam asks.

Bucky snorts. “He spilled his drink on me.”

Sam goddamn cackles at this, clapping his hands together like a seal as he laughs at Bucky. “ _Captain America_ spilled his drink on _you_?”

“He was pretty apologetic about it too.”

This only makes Sam laugh harder. Bucky is pretty sure he’s tearing up.

Bucky clicks to the next photograph, another of Steve laughing. Bucky frowns when he realizes he’s been staring for too long. It’s ridiculous. He can’t have some sort of weird celebrity crush on Steve Rogers of all people.

Sam suddenly stops laughing. “Wait,” he says, an alarmed look on his face. “Weren’t you wearing my tux last night?”

“Yep,” Bucky says, smirking.

Sam makes an agitated noise, but Bucky knows that he doesn’t really mind. Sam hasn’t had to rent or buy a tux in years. Now, he gets to borrow them with expensive labels that probably cost more than their apartments rent for three months.

“So, did you at least get his number?” Sam quips.

Bucky snags the plate of eggs that Sam’s forgone to stare intently at the pictures, and takes a few forkfuls before Sam can take it back. “No,” he tells Sam through a mouthful, “but he did get mine.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“I mean,” Bucky backtracks. “It was technically one of my business cards.”

Sam exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows. “I think the Captain wants a piece of that ass, Buck.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, and his come on was spilling his drink on me.”

“Hey, maybe that was a really popular thing in the forties, we don’t know.”

“Pretty sure the guy is straight.”

Sam groans. “But imagine it, Captain America, of all people, sucking dicks. All those republicans who use to him to pander to – You know, I’m gonna stop myself, but when he calls you, you should definitely ask him about it.”

“Will do,” Bucky says, exiting out the photographs of Steve.

***

He doesn’t actually expect Steve to call him.

It’s been a few weeks from when Bucky took the photographs of Steve, and they had even run in a few magazines that weren’t completely trashy. Bucky didn’t have anything to do all day, so it’s already three o’clock and he’s still in bed, Netflix playing on his laptop and his cat Sputnik lying on his chest. When his phone rings, Bucky is distractedly flicking through Instagram when the screen switches to a call from an unknown number. Bucky internally groans, but forces himself to answer.

“’Lo,” he says, hitting the space bar on his computer to pause the show he’s watching.

There’s a pause, one where Bucky is about to check to see if he’s been hung up on, but then someone clears their throat and goes, “Bucky?”

He instantly recognizes the voice and sits up abruptly, Sputnik digging his claws into Bucky’s chest. “Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s Steve…Rogers. It’s Steve Rogers,” he says hesitantly. Bucky can practically hear the cringe in his voice. “Hope it’s okay that I’m calling.”

Bucky smiles and clutches the phone harder. Jesus, Sam is going to think this is hilarious. “No, it’s cool, don’t worry,” Bucky tells him quickly. “Glad to hear from you.”

“Good,” Steve says quietly. “Were you able to get the stain out of your shirt?”

Bucky is almost in shock that Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, is calling him to ask if he could get a stain out of his shirt.

“Not sure yet. Kind of dumped it on my roommate to clean since he’s better at that kind of stuff than me. Honestly, he’s probably lost it,” he admits, only feeling a little embarrassed by it once it’s out of his mouth.

Steve laughs, though, low and breathy into the receiver. “Well, in that case, my fingers are crossed for you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky hums. He’s getting butterflies talking to a war hero, which is just a new low for Bucky.

There’s another pause, but then Steve goes, “So, I actually called to ask for a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Uh, well, it’s more of a job offer, really,” Steve tells him. Though the phone, there’s a scratchy sound and then the voice of someone talking quietly. It’s only a few seconds later that Steve goes, “It’s for this press thing. I overhead some people talking about finding a photographer and I just…I mentioned you.”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah. They saw the photos you took of me and liked them.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He almost wants to go back and look at the photos to see what exactly he did right for someone to think they were good.

When he doesn’t say anything, Steve goes, “So, would you be up for it?”

“Of course,” Bucky says hurriedly, cringing a little at his utter lack of nonchalance. “I mean, it sounds good.”

There’s a pause and then Steve goes, “Thanks. I’ll have some information sent to your email from your card, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” Steve tells him, pausing awkwardly. “I should get going, but it was nice talking to you.”

Bucky shouldn’t, but he laughs a little at this. “As formal as ever, huh, Steve?”

Steve makes a choked noise, and Bucky can practically hear him shrugging.

“That’s a good thing,” Bucky tells him knowingly. “But thank you, really. I appreciate this.”

“You don’t need to thank me, really.”

Bucky practically rolls his eyes. _So_ formal.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky sleeps in late on the day of the shoot.

The only reason he even wakes up is because Sam barges into his room to show off his new cowboy boots. He’s surprised to find Bucky still sleeping in his dark bedroom. Bucky rushes around his room getting ready, throwing his hair into a bun and tugging on whatever clothes looks moderately clean on his floor. He’s packing his camera bag when Sam sits on his bed, an amused smirk on his face.

“If the subway doesn’t get delayed, you’ll be fine,” he tells Bucky. “But if it does – ”

“It won’t,” Bucky says.

In a gentle voice, Sam echoes, “It won’t.”

“It should be an easy shoot,” Bucky nervously says now. “I mean, it’s only Captain America’s first real photo-shoot since coming back. No big deal.”

Sam scoffs. “You’ll be fine.”

Bucky doubles checks to make sure that everything is in his camera bag, carefully cataloguing everything until he’s sure that he didn’t miss anything. He zips it up and throws it over his shoulder, taking one last glance in the mirror. His hair is slightly greasy, and his shirt is wrinkled, but it’s the best he can do for now.

“At least you know that he’s into you,” Sam teases. “If you’re lucky, he might just flirt with you.”

Bucky shoots him an annoyed look. “Fuck off.”

“Maybe at the end you could – ”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Bucky tells him sternly.

Sam gives him a pouty face before shrugging. “Well, go on. The Captain is waiting for you.”

Bucky shoots him another annoyed glance before heading out of the apartment and rushing towards the subway. Thankfully, his train isn’t late, and he gets he gets to the address early. It’s a place in Brooklyn, and Bucky is mostly expecting an agency, but instead the address he’s given is to an apartment complex not that far from where Bucky grew up.

Bucky rings up to the floor, hands suddenly sweaty as they push the button to the apartment where there is a blank spot for a name. He’s let up, and finds that the door to the apartment is already open, a few people lingering around it. Bucky grips tighter to his camera bag as he approaches, the group of people quieting when he gets to them.

“Hi,” Bucky says awkwardly to them. “I’m James Barnes.”

He shakes hands with everyone, forgetting their names in only a few moments after they say them. One woman, with dark brown hair and careful eyes shoots Bucky a wary glance before leading him into the apartment. The place is lit up with bright studio lights already, different parts of the rooms picked out. Bucky looks around quietly, fascinated by the books on the shelves and the turntable on the coffee table. There are a few paintings on the walls too, but Bucky doesn’t get a chance to study them since he spots Steve.

A woman is dotting his face with a makeup brush, Steve standing sheepishly with his hands in his pockets. When he spots Bucky, he looks startled for a few seconds and then breaks into a wide grin. He steps forward, the makeup artist pulling away, and offers his hand to Bucky.

“Hey,” he says, eyes warm and welcoming.

Bucky feels reluctant to take Steve’s hand with his own sweaty one, but he does, Steve either not noticing or ignoring it kindly. Bucky thinks it’s probably the latter.

“How are you doing?” Bucky asks.

Steve puts his hands back into his pockets. “I’m good,” he says. “Kind of nervous for this, but good.”

“It should go well,” Bucky tells him, immediately recognizing and sympathizing with the anxiousness that is vibrating off of Steve. “So, don’t worry too much.”

Steve smiles softly at him before looking to the ground and quietly going, “Yeah.”

“This place is pretty cool,” Bucky says conversationally, craning his neck to get a better look around the place.

“Thanks,” Steve hums, still smiling.

Bucky quirks his eyebrow at him.

“It’s my apartment.”

Suddenly, the non-disclosure agreement that Bucky had to sign makes more sense. He’s in Captain America’s goddamn apartment. Things couldn’t be weirder.

“I think it’s supposed to be more personal or something,” Steve tells him, shrugging a little. “I guess I can kind of be a little cold.”

Bucky has a horrifying few seconds where he’s unsure of if he’s supposed to laugh or not point out the irony. What he’s saying, though, it makes sense. Bucky’s only met the guy twice now, and has vaguely followed his random press junkets and one-word answers to nosy paparazzi, but it is true that he can be cold in a guarded and careful way. Bucky doesn’t blame him for it, but he’s curious about the real Steve Rogers. Bucky’s panic is short-lived, though, because then Steve is laughing, loud and genuine.

“It was a joke,” he says, face a little red. “You can laugh.”

Bucky does, but mostly out of relief, and Steve seems appreciative of it. They don’t get much more time to talk, since Bucky gets briefed one last time on the shoot and then it begins, almost a little too soon for Bucky.

The first spot they’re taking photographs is in Steve living room, one corner of the room is lit up and Steve is sitting awkwardly on the couch. An assistant holds out a reflector in front of Steve as Bucky fidgets with the lights one last time before taking his place behind the camera. Besides not picking the location, his employers are giving him almost free creative reigns. He wants to do something original and different, but he’s also scared to mess this up. The photographs are to accompany Steve’s first interview.

Bucky experimentally takes a few shots, feeling incredibly nervous with the group of people all watching him. It’s unlikely that any of them besides his two assistants know shit about photography, but Bucky still feels like they can tell how inexperienced he suddenly feels. He shouldn’t feel that way, either, after all the work he’s done, but he does somehow.

When Bucky checks the preview screen of the photographs he’s taken, he isn’t impressed. It looks mediocre and so painfully set-up, especially with the pained expression on Steve’s face, the same one as before at the party. He doesn’t blame Steve, but he does blame himself for not making the environment more inviting and personal like the whole set calls for.

Bucky takes a few more painful photos, before setting his shoulders determinedly and looking around. Instantly, his eyes draw towards the record player on the coffee table. It’s clearly been placed there during set dressing, but Bucky had spotted the collection of vinyls on the bookshelf.

“Put something on,” Bucky finally says. “Your favorite album.”

The room gets quiet, and Steve blinks at him for a few seconds before nodding his head and standing up to dig through his collection. It takes a few minutes, ones where Bucky is nervously wringing his hands and hoping his plan works. He doesn’t catch which album Steve choses, but he watches as Steve carefully slides it into the player and fiddles with it for a few moments until the first song starts up. Bucky doesn’t recognize it, but it’s a big band piece, the instruments booming and melodic.

When Steve sits back down into the couch, he slumps a little into it, like he’s getting at home, and Bucky can’t help the grin on his face. He takes a couple more photos and finds the whole atmosphere changed for the better. It’s exactly what Bucky is looking for.

They stay where they are, Bucky taking enough photos until he feels like he has the perfect amount, and then they head to his kitchen, and then eventually his bedroom, where Captain America’s iconic shield is casually leaning up against his bed. When the record finishes, Steve puts on another with the encouragement of Bucky, and he even catches Steve swaying along to one of the songs as he poses next to his bedroom window.

Once they finish, Bucky is helping taking down a studio light when Steve carefully picks up one of the extension cords and starts to wrap it up in the same way he sees one of the assistants doing. Bucky hides his smile and inconspicuously moves so he’s closer to Steve.

“I grew up around here,” he tells Steve, not sure why he even says it.

“Really?” Steve asks, suddenly perking up when he hears this. Bucky nods his head, relishing in the interested spark in Steve’s eyes. “Me too.”

Of course Bucky knows this. Everyone knows Captain America hails from Brooklyn.

“It’s probably changed a lot, hasn’t it?” Bucky asks curiously.

Steve’s eyes drop to the ground when he hears it, shoulders hunching a little. “Kind of.”

Bucky feels a little bad for bringing it up. “It feels like it’s changed so much even for me,” he tells Steve, “and I only moved away a couple years ago.”

“Why did you leave?”

Bucky shrugs. “My friend was sick of taking the subway to Manhattan all the time. Easier for us to get an apartment up there.”

It didn’t help that both Sam and Bucky had been making exponentially more money than when they were living in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn, but Bucky doesn’t mention this.

Steve seems a little disappointed to hear this, but Bucky shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I miss it like hell,” Bucky assures him. “Manhattan will never be Brooklyn, you know? It’ll never be _home_.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve says now, smiling.

Bucky smiles back, the two of them quiet for a few moments. It takes one of the assistants asking Bucky a question for the two of them to look away, the moment ending. After, though, they clean up a little more and make small talk about different places in Brooklyn, and Steve has him in stiches by the time they finish cleaning and Steve is telling a story about the time he rode the Cyclone at Coney Island and threw up.

“You never eat before going on the amusement park rides, Steve, come _on_ ,” he nearly shouts, still laughing.

Steve shrugs sheepishly at him, grinning. “It was still a pretty good day,” he tells him quietly.

Bucky zips up his camera bag and looks up to Steve, suddenly realizing he’s been loitering for at least fifteen minutes. He’s half-expecting Steve’s publicist to kick him out. She only gives him an edgy look as Bucky tries to decide whether to ask Steve to hang out or not. He likes Steve, and he doesn’t think it’s because he’s Captain America, or because he’s some famous celebrity and war hero that everyone’s known for ages. He likes him because he talks about Brooklyn like he grew up with Bucky and the way he tints red when he says particular things. Most of all, he likes the way they instantly click like they’ve been friends since they were kids.

It’s disorienting and confusing, and all Bucky wants to do is invite Steve out for a beer or to go out to lunch one day, but he’s not really sure if he’s allowed to.

Eventually, Bucky gets out of Steve’s apartment, shaking hands with him one last time and deciding to not ask about a future meet-up.

Bucky spends the subway ride back to Manhattan with one of Steve’s songs stuck in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s another charity event because the world always needs saving and Bucky always needs a job.

It’s for New York City’s homeless youth, and the list of a-list celebrities walking around is enough to warrant a slew of professional photographers, one of which being Bucky. It did help that Sam was invited, and where Sam goes, Bucky usually follows, camera in his hand. After getting his few obligatory shots of Sam, most of which he refuses to be serious in that Bucky decides to keep for his own archive, he spends the night walking around and being badgered to take group shots of over-enthusiastic groups of women.

He’s got his camera to his face, Sam across the room socializing, and eyes peering through the viewfinder as he steadies a shot on an actress when a familiar face walks by in the background. Bucky instantly moves his camera down to follow the movement of the blond-haired man. He must notice him staring, though, because he looks over, eyes cautious before finding Bucky.

Steve grins at him, and Bucky grins back.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Bucky is walking over to him. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that Steve meets him halfway, snatching two flutes of champagne from a server and holding one out to Bucky when they meet.

“Promise I won’t spill this one on you,” he tells Bucky, smiling shyly at him.

Bucky laughs a little and accepts the drink, bringing it to his lips with a smile still on his face. “Should’ve guessed you would be here,” Bucky tells him.

Steve shrugs. “If I can help in any way, I will,” he says.

“You really live up to your reputation, you know that?”

“They’re kind of big shoes to fill,” he admits. Before Bucky can tell him he’s doing fine, Steve says, “Hey, I never got the chance to tell you that the photos came out really well. I was kind of nervous and all, with it being in my apartment, but I really like them.”

He sounds so genuine, and it makes Bucky go a little red. “I didn’t really do that much. Was mostly you.”

Steve huffs. “You’re modest.”

“So are you,” Bucky tells him, smirking before taking a sip of his champagne.

Steve doesn’t argue with him, but he does shake his head and laugh a little. Bucky thinks maybe their moment is over, and Steve will go back to the party, and Bucky back to his photographs, but then Steve spots someone in the crowd and goes, “Shit, hide me.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asks, amused by the way that Steve, the living tree he is, tries to hide behind Bucky, crouching slightly.

It takes a few seconds for Bucky to realize that same women from the photo-shoot, who had been so wary of Bucky, is looking around the party with her sharp eyes, clearly looking for Steve. Bucky laughs a little as he sets down his champagne and tugs Steve’s sleeve to drag him out of the nearest doors. Steve follows after him without missing a beat, his lips turned up into a smile as he walks beside Bucky. Neither of them says anything until Bucky finds the door to the stairs, and then Bucky goes, “Race you,” before clambering up the steps ahead of Steve. He figures he deserves a head start.

Gripping his camera, Bucky races up the stairs two at time, Steve following right behind him, their steps echoing out loudly. They go up at least four flights until they get to the last one, and Bucky is a couple steps from the door, Steve still right behind him, when his foot catches and he almost falls face first. Steve, though, instantly has a hold on him, a hand on his hip and another on his arm.

Bucky’s surprised by the touch for a few seconds, but then realizes he hasn’t fallen down despite how close he was to it. Worst of all, he was saved by Steve Rogers. He can’t help but to laugh, half of out of breath and giddy as he turns to look at Steve. He laughs with him instantly, full and loud. Bucky thinks it’s one of the best sounds he’s ever heard, and he’s too happy to even chastise himself for even thinking it.

“You really are a superhero,” Bucky teases, finally walking up a few steps to the door.

Behind him, Steve laughs harder, following Bucky out of the thankfully unlocked door. They’re on the roof of the building, and it’s just as Bucky remembers it from a few years ago. The city is bright and luminous from where they are, the sun low in the sky and coloring it in hues of red and orange. Bucky stands where he is, just looking out into the view with a smile on his face.

“Wow,” Steve says from beside him.

Bucky looks over to see the soft look on his face as Steve looks around. “Manhattan might not be Brooklyn, but it’s pretty here sometimes.”

They walk closer to the edge of the building, and Bucky holds up his camera to take a few pictures of the sunset, clicking away rapidly as Steve stands beside him. He changes the settings a little and takes more before looking back over to Steve. He seems surprised.

“What?” Bucky says then. “You just think I only take photos of celebrities?”

Steve shrugs, a shy smile on his face.

“I used to never take pictures of people,” Bucky tells him. “Before the army, I was going to do a road trip around the US to take photos but, uh,” Bucky hesitates. “Things happened.”

Hopefully sensing his awkwardness, Steve doesn’t ask for details on why, and only asks, “You were in the army?”

Talking about his time in the army isn’t Bucky’s favorite thing, either, but it feels easier to talk about than the alternative. “For a couple years, yeah,” Bucky says. “But then I went home and my roommate got me a camera and a few gigs, and here I am now.”

Steve looks impressed. “You seem to be doing okay. You’re a great photographer.”

Bucky shrugs at the compliment and takes a few more pictures of the sky in an attempt to ignore how much his fingers are itching to take a photo of Steve, face glowing in the soft light of the sunset. Bucky doesn’t let himself look long, but Steve really is handsome, pretty even. Bucky’s only seen a grainy, black and white photo of him when he was skinny in a middle school textbook, but he imagines with that face he must’ve looked feminine with his small body and pretty features.

“Can I see?” Steve asks, gesturing to the camera.

Bucky feels a little nervous, but he holds out the camera so that Steve can look through the photographs, eyes squinted at the screen.

“Wow,” he hums, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. “Photography’s changed a hell of a lot.”

Bucky laughs, watching as Steve scans through the photos. He stops, though, when he gets back to the party, and then just stares at the camera.

“How do you even use this?” he asks, examining the camera.

“It’s easy,” Bucky prompts, stepping closer so he can point at the viewfinder. “Just look through there and – ” He touches the shutter button then. “And click this.”

Steve smiles a little, but then brings the camera up to his face, unsteadily holding it up to the sky in front of them. He has to move it from his face completely before he finds the shutter button again, but he lines up the photo and takes it, quickly looking back at the camera to see the photo on the preview screen. He lets out a little laugh when he sees it.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, eyes bright and amused as he looks at it.

Quickly, he brings the camera back up to his face and turns a little so the lens is facing Bucky. He’s not sure what to even do with himself since he’s so used to being on the other side of the camera, but Bucky smiles timidly, eyes looking past the lens.

He hears the shutter click and looks over to see Steve smiling at the photo. He holds it out to Bucky and proudly goes, “I might take your job from you.”

Bucky glances at the photo before it disappears, not exactly liking how he looks, but not hating it either. It’s been a long time since he’s even let someone take his photo. “You might,” Bucky says, smiling at Steve.

A little embarrassed, Steve hands the camera back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to steal it from you,” he says. “Got a little excited.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky assures him. “It’s always good to educate the elderly on technology.”

Steve bursts into laughter, and Bucky is relieved that his joke wasn’t pushing it. Steve seems genuinely amused, though, and shakes his head like he can’t believe Bucky just said that. Bucky quietly laughs with him, clicking off his camera and snapping on the lens cap.

“The more help I can get the better,” Steve tells him. “I still don’t even know how to use the Internet.”

Bucky smirks. “You should really get on that. I think you can take a class at the library with my grandma.”

“I’ll look into it,” Steve says, smiling at the ground.

The sun has sunk even lower, the bright colors of the sunset gone and replaced with a rapidly darkening sky. The weather is still warm with it only being late May, but Bucky can feel the temperature drop along with the sun. They stay up on the roof, though, talking for an hour or so, trading information about the two of their lives.

Bucky tells harmless stories of his time in the army or funny anecdotes of him and Sam living together. Steve laughs at all his jokes and listens intently, sometimes veering the conversation off track to tell his own stories.

Steve’s stories, though, are a million times better than anything Bucky can tell him. He’ll easily switch from a story from World War Two to one from a week ago of him trying to figure out why bananas taste so different. He’s funny without meaning to, and carefully descriptive as he talks and Bucky is happy to see that the public version of him is slowly slipping away.

By the time the sky is completely black, Bucky’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he finds a text from Sam. “Shit,” he curses. “My roommate wants to leave, and he’s kind of my ride.”

Bucky is happy to see that Steve seems disappointed by the news, but he nods. “Yeah, I should probably get back anyways.”

They look at each other for a few seconds, Bucky debating if he should just ask Steve if they can see each other again. He finally gets out, “We should hang out again,” just as Steve goes, “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

Bucky feels a little embarrassed by it, but Steve is blushing red too, so it makes him feel better. They laugh it off and Bucky says, “We should. Coffee sounds good.”

“Great,” Steve says, practically beaming at him.

If Bucky didn’t know any better, he’d think he was setting up a date. Steve isn’t into him, though, and probably just wants a friend, something he probably doesn’t have very many of since he just got back into the world. Bucky is happy with being his friend, overjoyed even, so he nods his head and decides a friend is something he could use, too.

They head back downstairs, walking side by side down the stairs instead of running down them, and get back to the party to find Sam waiting patiently for Bucky near the doors. When he spots the two of them together, he shoots a pointed look at Bucky, a smug smile on his face. Bucky hopes his menacing expression shuts down any of his shenanigans.

“Steve,” Bucky says, motioning to Sam. “This is Sam, my roommate I was talking about.”

“You were talking about me?” Sam inquired playfully. “Hopefully only the good stuff.”

“Definitely,” Steve says, holding out his hand and smiling.

Sam shakes hands with him. “It’s all lies,” he says, and then, “It’s nice to meet you. You’re kind of a legend.”

Steve looks flustered, shrugging awkwardly, and Bucky tries to avert the attention from him. “You ready then?” he asks Sam.

“Since we got here,” he says.

Bucky rolls his eyes and say goodbye to Steve, waving to him as he walks away, the plans of their coffee get-together solidified. He feels warm and happy as him and Sam get into their cab, undoing his bowtie and letting it hang off from his neck.

Sam quirks an eyebrow at the way he leans his head against the headrest and smiles sleepily.

“Where did you two disappear to?”

“The roof,” Bucky tells him nonchalantly. “He had to hide from his publicist or something, so I took him up there.”

“Sounds romantic,” Sam singsongs.

Bucky gives him an annoyed look. “It’s not like that.”

“You’re going on a date with him?” he asks, clearly amused.

Bucky snorts. “It’s not a date, Sam.”

“Okay, a platonic hangout with the guy you’re so clearly into.”

“He’s straight.”

“So were you when we met.”

“I was ten. Plus, I knew. I just wasn’t out.”

Sam gives him a pointed look.

“Don’t even,” Bucky groans. “Let me make a friend so that I can stop only ever hanging out with you.”

“My boy is finally leaving the nest,” Sam exclaims, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulder. In a serious voice, Sam goes, “I’m proud of you, though. Making friends and shit. That’s good.”

Bucky hates how he makes it seriously seem like such an accomplishment that Bucky can talk to a guy for a while without him turning Bucky away. After spending the last year and a half mostly isolated beside the odd photography job and Sam dragging him along to random events, Bucky hasn’t spent much time with other people.

“You say that now,” Bucky teases. “Just wait until you have no one to hang out with you on Friday nights anymore.”

Sam laughs and leans in closer.

***

Before Bucky goes to bed, he flicks through his camera’s pictures until he finds the one that Steve took of him. He’s never liked photos of himself, but he likes this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry this took longer to upload. I'm working on a new thing that I really want to post before Christmas, so that's been taking up most of my writing time. Hopefully, cute coffee dates make up for it. Also, expect some drunk mistakes to be made in the next chapter ;)

Bucky is in a full-blown panic by the time he gets to the café where he’s meeting Steve. Sam wasn’t at the apartment to calm him down before he left since he’s busy with a callback for the movie that’s got him talking in a southern accent and debating the merits of purchasing three hundred dollar cowboy boots online. Now, Bucky is awkwardly standing down the road from the café since he’s over fifteen minutes early.

Steve and him had exchanged a few texts about their meet-up. Bucky liked it because Steve writes all of his messages like he’s writing letters, signing his name at the end of each one like Bucky is going to forget it’s him. It’s cute, though, and Bucky might not even mention it to him that’s it’s completely unnecessary. Still, though, they really hadn’t talked much besides setting up the plans.

Just when Bucky is about to send Sam fifty panicked texts, Bucky spots Steve across the street, looking both ways before jaywalking straight through traffic. Bucky almost can’t believe it for a few seconds, that upstanding Captain America would dare illegally _jaywalk_. Laughing to himself as his anxiety melts away a little, Bucky hurries down the street so that he can get close enough to scare Steve by going, “I saw that.”

Steve _is_ scared, too, jumping a little before he sees it’s Bucky and smiles. “What?”

“You just illegally jaywalked,” Bucky tells him knowingly. “If I wasn’t hoping you were going to pay for my coffee, I might’ve called the police.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Steve says then, a confused smile on his face. “You know, I did grow up in the city. I’ve probably been hit by more cars than you have.”

Bucky scoffs. “No chance. I’ve been hit by _at least_ a thousand cars by now.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him. “That seems like a lot.”

“You’d be amazed by how stupid I can be,” Bucky says, shrugging as he holds open the door to the café for Steve.

Bucky was the one to suggest this coffee shop. It’s in the neighborhood Bucky grew up in and he’s known the owner since he was a kid. Since moving away, Bucky sometimes like to take the subway over and sit at the place for a few hours and pretend to do work on his laptop when he’s really just on Twitter. It’s not too far from Steve’s apartment, either, so Bucky figured it would be a good place.

Inside, the AC is blasting and there is quiet music playing. A few people are hanging around on their laptops or talking to each other quietly over a cup of coffee, and Bucky decides it’s a good day for this. Not too busy, but not empty, either.

Steve gets in line before Bucky and squints at the board. He turns to Bucky and goes, “Do they have black coffee?”

Bucky tries not to laugh. “I mean, they do,” he says, “but you’re really just going to get _black coffee_?”

“Well,” Steve starts, rubbing the back of his neck as his face goes bright red. “I don’t really know what all that means.”

He’s glancing to the menu, clearly embarrassed.

Bucky suddenly feels incredibly mean. “Hey,” he says casually. “I could order for you. If you don’t like it, you can get your boring black coffee.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees after a moment, a small smile on his face.

Bucky steps ahead of him to order two vanilla bean lattes, relishing in the suspicious look that Steve is giving him. When he pulls out his wallet to pay, Steve tries to stop him.

“I thought I was paying so you don’t have to call the police?” Steve questions, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

Bucky shakes his head, laughing a little. “No way. You might hate this coffee so there’s no way you’re paying,” he tells him sagely. “Plus, I was kidding about you paying, anyways.” Bucky wants to make a joke about how much of gentleman he is on dates, but knows better. This isn’t a date, he tells himself, just two friends getting coffee.

The things is, Bucky doesn’t even remember what it’s like to make friends. Since coming back, the closest things he’s had to a friend besides Sam is the guy that came around a few times after a one-night stand. Now, Bucky wonders if he’s doing this right. Coffee seems like a safe start, though.

Their coffees get made and they sit at a little table in the corner and Bucky excitedly watches as Steve takes his first stip. His face scrunches up comically when he does, and then he waits a couple seconds before taking another sip.

“Is this even coffee?” Steve asks, staring down at the paper cup suspiciously.

Bucky cracks up. “It is!”

“Very sugary,” Steve tells him then, trying another sip.

“You really don’t have to drink it,” Bucky tells him, smiling at the face he makes. “It won’t hurt my feelings.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s just different.”

“That’s because it’s actually good.”

They talk for hours in the café, the two of them finishing their coffees in the first twenty minutes and letting them sit at the table instead of breaking the conversation to get refills. Bucky listens as Steve talks about his life in the forties and about the war, his voice rising with excitement or petering off quietly when he says something about his mother or his war buddies. Bucky tries to make it look like he doesn’t notice the sullen expression on his face when he does this.

Bucky tries to only tell stories from before he joined the army, but he keeps having moments where he blurts out things he hasn’t told anyone, not even Sam. Steve will nod along or smile at him like it’s nothing, and Bucky’s not sure why, but he feels like could tell Steve everything and he’d still smile at him like that.

Eventually, they decide to give their table up since the café is busier than it was before. They throw their cups away and when they get to the door, Bucky can’t bear to part with Steve yet. He knows he’s being clingy, and he knows that feeling well. He forces himself to go, “I should get going.”

Steve seems disappointed, but then nods a few times. “I had a good time,” he says, something strange in his voice that Bucky can’t work out. Steve doesn’t look him in the eyes when he adds on, “I like spending time with you.”

Bucky’s not even sure what to say for a few seconds. His stomach swoops, and he almost wants to cry when he hears it. He can tell how genuine Steve is being and it rattles Bucky. He’s never thought of himself as someone people want to be around. Steve, though, looks _scared_ to even admit this, and Bucky wants to hug him just for the sincerity of it all.

“Me too,” Bucky says quietly, smiling at him when Steve looks up with a surprised face. Bucky saves them both the embarrassment and quickly goes, “You taking the F?”

Steve squints at him. Bucky is starting to recognize the face as his massively confused one.

“You know, the subway,” Bucky says, laughing. He teasingly smacks himself in the head. “Oh, yeah, I forget you probably just hail a cab, unlike the rest of us cheap bastards.”

“I walked here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and pointedly looks down to Steve’s chest. “Yeah, you obviously look like someone who could use the exercise.”

Steve goes a deep red, and Bucky finds it a little endearing. “I actually don’t even know how to use the subway anymore,” he admits.

“Oh.” Bucky feels a little shitty now. “Well, come on, I’ll show you.”

Steve seems hesitant, but easily falls into step as they head for the station. It’s not too far away, and Bucky can practically feel Steve’s nerves. He’s wearing a baseball hat (that he had pointedly taken off when they entered the café) and has his head bent down. Bucky realizes stupidly that it must be because he doesn’t want people to notice him. He somehow forgot that he was technically hanging out with a national icon.

The subway station is small but crowded, and Steve’s eyes get wide as they walk down the steps.

“So,” Bucky starts, digging through his wallet for his metro card. He flashes it in front of Steve’s face. “You should probably get one of these at some point, but we’ll just use mine for now.”

Steve nods, face serious as he stands in line behind Bucky.

“These things are kind of shitty, so you might have to swipe it a few times. Just keep the card flat and do what I do.”

Bucky tries to calm the anxious expression on Steve’s face with a warm smile before turning around and easily swiping the card and heading through the turnstile. He hands the card to Steve and motions for him to follow. The card doesn’t go the first time, and Bucky sends the person behind Steve a death glare to insure that they don’t complain like they always do. The second time, though, it flashes green and Steve walks through the turnstile and hands the card back.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky tells him as he sticks the card into his wallet, “that was the easy part. Making sure you’re on the right platform, or if you’re going downtown or uptown or express or local is harder. It’s all kind of complicated but if you make enough mistakes you’ll figure it out eventually.”

Steve looks horrified for a few seconds and Bucky can’t help but to laugh. Steve laughs too then, looking down, the bill of his hat covering his face.

They only have to wait a few minutes for a train to arrive and they huddle into the small space along with a hoard of others. Scrunched against Steve, the two of them holding onto the hanging straps, Bucky can feel how rigid Steve is. He suddenly feels bad, like he should’ve known better than to pressure Steve Rogers, all of people, to use the subway with him. He’s also conflicted, wondering if he should say something or pretend he hasn’t noticed.

“When I first got back, I fucking hated the subway,” Bucky admits, leaning towards Steve to talk quietly. “Would walk miles just so I didn’t have to take it. Sam thought I was going to die of heatstroke or dehydration, or something.”

Steve makes a surprised face. “You seem fine now.”

“Mostly, yeah.” Bucky nods, breaking eye contact and looking down. “Kind of had to force myself to do it, but after so long dreading it I made into something it wasn’t. After a few rides, I realized it really wasn’t that bad.”

This seems to resonate with Steve, and he even seems to relax a little when he hears this. With the way their bodies are touching, Bucky can feel Steve’s ridiculous muscles and the heat from his body, and it makes him fidget nervously. He tries not to think about it, though, because the last thing he needs in his life is some pathetic crush on his straight, possible future friend.

“I would tell you that it’s not usually this busy,” Bucky says then. “But it’s always like this.”

“This is a very different experience than the trolley I used to take,” Steve tells him.

Bucky grins. He tries to imagine a skinny version of Steve taking the trolley in the nineteen thirties but can’t actually see it. “Just be grateful that there isn’t a mariachi band playing,” Bucky tells him knowingly.

Steve gives him a confused glance, still smiling. “You do know when I’m getting off, right?”

Bucky tries desperately not to make a joke.

“The stop after the next,” Bucky says. “All you have to do is follow the crowd out into the street. You know Brooklyn enough to get back, yeah?”

“Hopefully.”

“Call or text me if you need any help,” Bucky offers. Then, nervously adds, “Or if you just wanna talk.”

Steve grins. “Will do.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, and if it seems like Steve leans into Bucky’s touch then it’s probably just his imagination. When his stop comes up, Bucky pushes Steve to the doors and waves at him before he slips out of the car.

Snagging a seat in the back of the car, Bucky digs his phone out from his jean pocket and finds a text from Sam that just reads, _CALL ME ASAP_. Worried, Bucky untangles the earbuds from his pocket and plugs them in to call him, somehow miraculously finding service.

Sam answers on the second ring with a breathy, “ _Bucky_.”

“Dude, is something wrong?”

“Yes, it’s horrible,” Sam then says, in a tone that tells Bucky he’s being dramatic.

“Sam,” Bucky sighs into the receiver. “You can’t keep doing this to me. I thought you burned the apartment down or broke your leg falling down the stairs again.”

“That was one time!” Sam complains. “I just wanted to tell you some pretty important news but if you’re going to be a dick then – ”

“ _Sam_.”

Waiting a second, no doubt building up the suspense, Sam finally says, “I got the part, Buck.”

“Shit, really?”

“Got the call from my agent before I even got back from the audition,” Sam tells him excitedly.

Bucky grins so wide it hurts. “Jesus, man, congrats!” He’s practically yelling, and the couple next to him gives him annoyed looks but he doesn’t care. “That’s huge. We have to celebrate.”

“Totally,” Sam says, and Bucky can practically hear the smile in his voice. “We could order some pizza and – “

“We should go out and get drinks and you can invite your friends,” Bucky interrupts him. “It’ll be fun.”

There’s a hesitant pause, and Bucky hates it. “You sure? You know I don’t mind staying in.”

Bucky knows why he’s asking, but he almost wants to snap at him for even bringing it up. He’s trying to be a good friend, but Bucky doesn’t want to feel like a burden to him anymore. He never wanted to feel like one before, either, but he was when he first got back, and he knows it. It still hurts Bucky to think about all the times Sam had to rearrange plans to accommodate Bucky.

“I’m not five, Sam,” Bucky assures him. “I’ll be fine. Set it up.”

“Fine, if you say so.”

“Alright, well I’m getting off the subway now so I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

“Hey, and Sam,” Bucky says before hanging up. “Congrats.”

Sam laughs at him before hanging up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Christmas miracle :")

The night out turns out much better than Bucky expects.

The club is loud and cramped with sweaty people, and Bucky can’t help the pangs of jealousy when a slew of Sam’s friends show up to help celebrate. Bucky’s night is highly improved after he’s taken a few shots and downed two craft beers with a pinched face. Sam only makes fun of him a little for it.

Sam also is the one to drag him back to the apartment, dropping him to the couch and heading to the kitchen. He’s not as drunk as Bucky, and rarely is, and Bucky pouts about it for a few seconds before getting an idea that he thinks is amazing.

It takes what feels like forever for him to dig his phone out of his pocket, but Bucky eventually tugs it out and then deals with remembering his password. Soon enough, though, he has his phone pressed against his hot face, the dial tone ringing a few times before a deep, beautiful voice comes through.

“Hello?”

“Steve!” Bucky practically squeals, chest feeling warm just at the sound of his voice. He kind of forgot what it feels like to have a crush, Bucky thinks absently.

There’s a few seconds of silence, and then a huffed laugh. “Hey, Bucky.”

Suddenly, Bucky feels so stupid, and he slaps himself on the forehead. “Oh no, oh god, Steve, I am so sorry,” he says, feeling like he might cry.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, sounding overly concerned.

“You’re like ninety years old,” Bucky says, voice broken. “It’s way past your bedtime. Did I wake you?”

Steve laughs so loudly into the receiver that Bucky has to hold his phone away from his face. “Bucky, you didn’t wake me,” he finally says between more laughter.

Bucky laughs along. “Good. I have a really important question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just, me and my friend were really trying to figure it out,” Bucky starts, face scrunching up in concentration. “And I was, like, _no way_ because you’re Captain America, you know. Fuckin’ star spangled man with a…a shield? What is it?” Bucky tries to sing the song, but he can’t come up with how it ends.

Steve makes an amused sound. “I’m confused.”

“Okay, so if you’re going to play baseball,” Bucky says, trying to put this in terms Steve would understand. “What team would you play for?”

Just as Bucky says it, Sam walks in. He has a disapproving look on his face, and Bucky knows he’s about to take the phone away from him because he never lets him have fun. There’s a confused silence from Steve’s end, and he finally asks, “What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to ask you if you suck – _Hey_ , no!” Bucky exclaims, making grabby hands at his phone that Sam has just confiscated.

Sam gives him another disapproving look before bringing the phone up to his own face. “Hey, sorry about that,” Sam says. “Somehow forgot that Bucky’s favorite pastime is drunk dialing people.”

Steve is saying something, and Bucky makes an agitated noise at the fact that he can’t talk to him but Sam can.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Sam says now, smiling a little. “Yeah, he’s pretty wasted. Sorry about that.”

Bucky makes a wailing sound and crosses his arms over his chest, jutting his bottom lip out. Sam rolls his eyes unsympathetically at him.

“I’ll have him call you tomorrow and apologize,” Sam says now.

“I have nothing to apologize for!” Bucky yells so that Steve can hear him.

His chest feels warm again when he hears Steve’s tinny laugh from all the way on the couch.

***

Predictably, Bucky wakes up hating himself.

He doesn’t even remember the phone call to Steve until he stumbles into the kitchen, throws up in the sink, and then squints at the brightly colored sticky note that Sam’s left on the fridge when he tries to get some water.

“Call Steve and apologize!” it reads in Sam’s neat handwriting.

Bucky’s halfway through chugging a water bottle when he finally realizes what the note means. He leans pathetically against the counter and holds the water bottle against his forehead.

“So fucking stupid, Barnes,” he mumbles to himself. He knows if Sam was here, he’d be agreeing with him.

Bucky looks at the sink and knows he needs to clean it, but instead sits down at the table and procrastinates for as long as he can on Instagram before finally dialing Steve’s number. He feels sick but he knows better than to think it’s the alcohol from last night instead of his nerves.

Steve answers with a questioning, “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve says in an amused voice. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky almost cringes. For a few blissful seconds, he could’ve pretended it was all just a dream, and he never called Steve, but he obviously did. “A little rough,” Bucky says, eyeing the sink. “Kinda went overboard last night. Was celebrating my roommate getting a job.”

“Oh. Sam? I talked to him last night,” Steve says now.

“Was that when he took my phone away?” Bucky cracks a smile despite himself. He can’t believe he actually drunk dialed a war hero.

Steve laughs a little. “Yeah.”

“ _Lord_ ,” Bucky groans to himself. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I said, but disregard it. I was pretty plastered.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, huffing out another laugh. “It was kind of funny.”

Bucky smiles and leans back in his chair. “Glad you were amused.”

“Saved me the trouble of having to call you.”

“You were gonna call me?” Bucky cringes a little at his words. He sounds like a middle school girl with a crush. It’s not necessarily too far off, in most respects, but he doesn’t want to sound like one to Steve.

There’s a hesitant pause. “Well, I thought we were going to see each other again?” Steve asks, clearly disappointed.

“Yeah, obviously. _Definitely_ ,” Bucky fumbles quickly, scared he won’t get a chance to redeem himself. “We should. What do you have in mind?”

“Coffee again, maybe?” Steve offers. “I’ve been meaning to walk around Brooklyn more, but I figured it might be easier with a more recent local.”

Bucky smiles. He’s the more recent local. “Sounds great. I can be a tour guide.”

“If we get lost I’m personally blaming you,” Steve teases.

“You shouldn’t doubt my knowledge of Brooklyn.”

Steve laughs. “Well, we’ll find out.”

“Good.”

Feeling satisfied, Bucky smiles to himself and doesn’t think too hard about the silence between them for a few seconds. He even almost forgets all about his embarrassing call last night.

That changes quickly, though, when right before the calls ends, after Steve says he should get going, he quietly goes, “Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky’s stomach lurches. “Yeah?”

“I thought I would let you know that I’d play for either team,” Steve says carefully. “It kind of just depends on the game.”

“Wha – _Oh_.” Bucky is speechless for at least a minute, his mind reeling over the fact that Steve Rogers just came out as bisexual to him with a baseball analogy. Bucky finally stops gawking to stupidly add, “I only play for one of the teams. I mean, _well_ – the gay team. I guess?”

“You guess?” Steve asks, sounding more amused than anything else. Instantly, Bucky feels relieved.

“I know. I’m very gay.” Bucky slaps himself in the face again. “I should really hang up before I keep saying stupid stuff.”

Steve just laughs at him.

They wrap up their conversation and Bucky spends at leas ten minutes staring into space smiling like a dope until he snaps out of it. Very slowly, he stands up and heads to the bathroom to find a pair of rubber gloves and bleach cleaner. He’s only a few minutes into cleaning the kitchen sink when Sam comes home, a brown pastry bag in his grip and a smug smile on his face.

“Did you throw up in there again?” Sam asks. Bucky gives him an annoyed look, shoulders hunched with a bottle of cleaner in one hand and a sponge in the other. “Dude, you really gotta stop that. There is a bathroom for a reason.”

Bucky turns his back to him and scrubs at the sink.

“Did you call Steve?” Sam asks now.

“Maybe.”

Sam clicks his tongue. “I was gonna use this croissant to convince you to call him. How did it go?”

“I’ll be taking the croissant in about three to five hours,” Bucky tells him, still feeling sick at the thought of eating. “But, Jesus, Sam, why did you let me drunk dial him?”

“Hey, you can’t blame me,” Sam says, throwing him an annoyed glance. “You did that to yourself, buddy.”

“I asked him if he was gay with a baseball analogy!” Bucky groans, burying his face in his hands. He’s still embarrassed by it, even if Steve’s mostly made him feel better.

“Would it make you feel better if let you take photos of me getting coffee?” Sam holds out his phone to a photograph of a popular model balancing a cup of coffee and her cell phone in her hand, a menacing look pointed at the camera. “I’ll even scowl for you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t do that stuff anymore,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Technically, in a way, he kind of does, but he won’t admit that to Sam. “Why are you even looking at that crap? You probably have her number in your contacts.”

“I like to check to make sure they don’t have any embarrassing photos of me.”

“I would laugh if I didn’t think you were telling the truth.”

Bucky turns back around and finishes cleaning the sink, Sam making amused noises as he scrolls through more trashy paparazzi pictures. Bucky slumps into the stool next to him and peers over to the screen.

“He’s a dick in real life,” Sam mutters, scrolling faster when he sees the face of a particularly famous actor.

The photo directly after it, though, makes Bucky blink a few times to make sure he’s seeing it right. It’s a candid of Steve, his head turned from the camera and face half-obscured by the bill of his hat. He’s smiling, though, a soft and glowing smile that makes Bucky’s lips quirk up at the corners.

He barely even realizes that it’s Bucky that Steve is smiling at.

“I can’t believe we found a photo of you before me,” Sam groans. “Am I even famous anymore? Do people even care about me?”

Bucky is no stranger to seeing his blurry face in the backgrounds of paparazzi photo’s of Sam, but something about this one makes Bucky feel vulnerable and nervous. The photo is centered on Steve, so part of Bucky’s left side of cropped out, but his face is visible and recognizable. He didn’t even see anyone taking their photo, but here is the proof in a grainy cell phone shot.

“’Captain America takes a stroll through his hometown of Brooklyn, New York with a friend,’” Sam reads out loud.

“ _A friend_?” Bucky snorts. “Come on, I have, like, fifty thousand followers on Instagram. You’d think they’d at least identify me.”

Sam clicks his tongue. “How dare they?” he says sarcastically. Then, smirking, he says, “I got you all those followers.”

“Did not. I have quality content,” Bucky tells him, even if it’s a little true. Bucky’s follower count jumped up dramatically after Sam started tagging him in photos.

“Do you want me to send this photo to your grandma? I’m sure she’d like it,” Sam teases.

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously. She might even frame it.”

Bucky flips Sam off as he leaves the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Brooklyn has apparently changed quite a bit while Steve was away.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, the whole city’s been turned into a whole new world while Steve was in the ice. After they pick up coffee – iced this time because of the heat – they aimlessly wander around Brooklyn, the two of them managing to only vaguely know where they’re going. With Steve’s running commentary about all the changes, Bucky finds himself having a good time and growing a newfound admiration for his hometown.

Eventually, to escape from the heat, they take refuge in a sandwich shop and order some food. Bucky tries to pay, but Steve manages to pull out a twenty before Bucky has even finished ordering. He lets it slide only because Steve says, “You can pay next time.” All Bucky can hear is that there is going to be a next time, and that’s enough to leave him smiling down at his shoes and hoping Steve doesn’t catch his excitement.

“I can’t imagine it,” Bucky says, shrugging as he pops a chip into his mouth.

“It’s true!” Steve exclaims. “I only found out a few weeks ago, but I swear it’s true.”

Bucky snorts, nearly spitting out the crumbs of his chips all over the table. “I’m sorry, but excuse me for not being able to believe that Captain America was getting regularly stoned back in the day.”

“I wasn’t Captain America then,” Steve says. “I was just Steve, and I was very small, and sometimes would need asthma cigarettes. Didn’t get them regularly, though. They were pretty expensive.”

Leaning back in his seat, Bucky shakes his head in disbelief. “Look, between you and me, I could probably find you some good weed if you wanted to relieve your youth.”

“Bucky!” Steve says, hiding his face in his hands as he laughs.

“It’s a joke,” Bucky tells him, smiling warmly at how small Steve looks at this moment. “I mean, mostly. Look, Steve, if you just wanted me to get you some weed, all you had to do was ask.”

Steve takes a nervous looking sip of his soda and smiles to himself. “That is _not_ why I told you that story.”

“Yeah? Was it so that you could impress me with how cool you were in your asthmatic youth?”

“I’m never telling you another story.”

Bucky makes an offended face. “Hey, I was only kidding. I’m very impressed right now. Wish I could’ve been around to see you when you were a kid.”

Something in Steve’s face changes, and his playfulness seems to sober out as he picks through the chips left on his plate. “You wouldn’t have wanted to, trust me.”

Bucky looks him over carefully before asking, “Why?”

“I wasn’t… _cool_ ,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t even have friends. The only person I had was my ma, and once she died I was alone. Didn’t help that I was always getting beat up and was always sick. Not exactly best friend material.”

It hurts Bucky a little to hear the shame and sadness in Steve’s voice. He seems so open and vulnerable, and most of all trustful, even if Bucky feels like he’s done nothing to deserve it. His chest swells with anger and frustration over how Steve talks. He wants to say that he would’ve been Steve’s friend, and that he would’ve watched over him while he was sick, and that he would’ve fought with him in alleyway fights. He keeps it to himself, though, scared he might cross a line if he says it.

“I didn’t, uh, have very many friends growing up, either,” Bucky admits quietly. “I mean – I did when I was younger, but then in high school everything changed. I was outed to my whole school and had family stuff going on. People just kinda stayed away from me.”

Steve seems surprised to hear this, and then his face crumples up in confusion. “You were _outed_?”

He says the word in a way that makes Bucky think he doesn’t actually know what it means. Bucky realizes he might not. “I was stupid, and I tried to kiss my friend. He obviously wasn’t into it so he told the whole school about it,” Bucky explains. “I probably could’ve lied or something but I didn’t feel like hiding anymore so I just came out.”

“Oh. Fuck, that’s – I’m sorry,” Steve says, frowning at him.

Bucky shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, really,” he says, trying to forget how sad he used to become just thinking about the mess of all four years of high school. “Plus, it wasn’t all bad. I had Sam, even if he went to a different school. And after I came out I met this other gay guy who would sometimes make out with me.”

Steve laughs, his face going red. Bucky smiles down into his plate and wonders if he should’ve kept that part to himself. They’re quiet, though, and Bucky feels content picking at his plate in mutual silence. He knows that eventually they’ll have to leave and part ways for the day, but Bucky wishes he could invite Steve over to his apartment. He won’t ask, though. He wouldn’t.

Just when Bucky is expecting Steve to say they should call it a day, Steve quietly says, “You were the first person I told.”

Bucky is confused for a few seconds, not sure what Steve is alluding to, but then it hits him. “Shit, really?” Steve nods, a hesitant look on his face. Bucky breaks into a smile, trying to ease the nervousness that Steve is exuding. “Congrats. Honestly, it gets way easier after the first.”

Steve shrugs. “Don’t know who else I’d tell.”

Bucky sees it for what it is: a confession. He wonders if Steve is just as lonely as Bucky is. It almost doesn’t seem possible, but Bucky tries to imagine if he was in Steve’s place. The guy lost everyone he knew and is probably only looked at like a spectacle because of the shield and suit. He’s practically made it clear that he doesn’t have any other friends besides Bucky. Something about it makes Bucky’s chest ache with empathy.

“You can always practice on the cashier at the grocery store,” Bucky tells him casually. “Totally worked for me.”

Steve smiles a little. “How many cashiers have you come out to?”

“So many,” Bucky says, smirking. “They’re checking out my bread and I’m just like, ‘I’m gay.’ They love it, really.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Steve laughs, his shoulders not as tense as before.

They manage to hang around the sandwich shop for another half hour before finally calling it a day. Bucky is about to head for the subway when Steve grabs his arm, a strong grip keeping him where he is.

“I almost forgot,” Steve says then, awkwardly pulling his hand back. “There’s this, um, party? Tony – Tony Stark – is throwing it and I thought I would invite you.” Bucky must look surprised because Steve is quickly adding, “If you wanted to go.”

“Yeah, no, totally I wanna go,” Bucky assures him. No one ever invites Bucky to parties without expecting him to take photographs all night. His heart swells embarrassingly in his chest knowing that Steve wanted him to come along. Even more embarrassing is the hope that Steve is asking Bucky to accompany him.

Steve’s smile when he hears Bucky is brighter than any he’s seen all day. “That’s great,” he says. “And, of course, Sam can come too.”

“Sure, yeah. He’s always kind of busy, but I’ll see if he can make it,” Bucky tells him, trying to ignore that pitiful sinking feeling in his chest. He hates himself for even having the slightest idea that Steve would actually be asking him out.

“Cool, good,” Steve says then, still smiling. “I’ll text message you the information. Is that okay?”

Bucky nods and they exchange their goodbyes. He watches as Steve walks away in the direction of his apartment, the back of his head disappearing into the distance.

***

Bucky doesn’t think he could possibly be any stupider.

He’s done a lot of stupid things, but this one has to take the cake.

Somehow, He had managed to never realize, even after asking Sam to come with him to Steve’s party. Sam, predictably, had something going on and had abandoned him to come alone. He could tell that Sam hadn’t wanted to leave him, and Bucky had even overheard him on the phone trying to get out of an interview so he could come along.

Sam, though, didn’t even tell Bucky about why the party might have been on the fourth of July. So, Bucky shows up stupidly to Steve’s birthday party without a gift or even an idea it was his birthday.

And, sure, Bucky technically knows that Steve’s birthday is the fourth of July. Everyone knows it. He just managed to completely gloss over the date and completely forget about Captain goddamn America’s _birthday_.

This paired with the fact that Bucky’s anxiety is already so high, he almost walks right out. He makes himself stay, but doesn’t scold himself for going straight to the open bar. He doesn’t know anyone at the party besides Steve, so if he expects himself to make it through the entire night, then he has to be slightly drunk.

After downing a shot and ordering a drink, he sets out to find Steve. He’s aimlessly wandering around the party when a familiar face stops him with a hand slapping his shoulder.

“Bucky!” he exclaims, whole face lighting up. “That is you call yourself, right? Thought it sounded weird, but Steve keeps calling you it, so it must be your nickname. That or he heard it wrong and he’s been calling you by the wrong name this whole time.”

Bucky blinks at Tony Stark. “I’m confused,” he says out loud. “How do you know who I am?”

“Did you really think I’d let Steve go on play dates with someone I haven’t run a background check and a little surveillance on first?” Tony asks. “What kind of a parent do you take me for?”

“A little surveillance?” Bucky repeats, alarmed.

Tony waves his hand casually. “It’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry. Just so happy that I finally get to meet you in the flesh. You’re all that Steve talks about.”

Bucky can’t help the smile that blooms on his face. Tony’s probably exaggerating, but the thought of Steve talking about him is enough to make Bucky feel all warm inside. “Really?” Bucky finds himself asking.

“Oh yeah,” Tony nods. “That’s why I was so keen on meeting you. Plus, I wanted to make sure that you weren’t using him.”

“Using him? No, I wouldn’t – Steve is my friend,” Bucky stutters out nervously.

“You two do seem pretty close,” Tony says. “Where is your boyfriend, by the way? Steve said he invited him.”

Bucky cocks his head in confusion. “Do you mean Sam? He’s not my boyfriend, trust me.”

“Oh?” Tony looks overjoyed by this. “That’s very interesting. You should really tell that to Steve because I think he thinks something different.”

Bucky tries to reply, but he’s caught on his words. Before he can ask, though, Steve appears. He’s dressed in a black button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It’s tucked into a pair of khaki pants, a black belt completing the look. His hair looks carefully done, pushed back with a few strands of his bangs slipping out artfully. Bucky nearly gawks at him for a full minute before realizing that Steve looks panicked as he looks back and forth between Tony and Bucky.

“You already found him, Tony?” he asks, a distressed note to his voice. “Did you go looking for him or something?”

Tony makes a face that confirms he did in fact go looking for Bucky.

“Lord,” Steve sighs. He looks over to Bucky. “Don’t listen to anything he said.”

Bucky quirks a playful eyebrow at Steve. “Even the part about you talking about me all the time?”

Steve’s whole face goes red as he chokes out, “Well, it’s not that I – I talk about you, I do, but it’s not like – It’s not _that_ often.”

Tony bursts in laughter at Steve’s struggle. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he says then, smirking in Steve’s direction before disappearing into the crowd.

“I would tell you that he’s not always like that,” Steve says after a few uncomfortable seconds. “But he really is like that all the time.”

Bucky laughs, some of his anxiety melting away. “I’ve met his girlfriend before. A few times, actually. She goes to a lot of charity events. She’s told me a few stories about him, too.”

Steve and Bucky exchange smiles, and Bucky tries to place his and Tony’s conversation at the back of his head to analyze later.

“Anyways,” Bucky says, awkwardly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Happy birthday, Steve.”

Steve goes red again, shrugging as he smiles into the floor. “Thanks. I told Tony to not do anything big but – “ He looks up and gestures to the loud, definitely big party around them. “Don’t know what I really expected.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bucky says. “This party is probably bigger than all my birthday parties put together.”

“Same here. All I used to do for my birthdays was maybe treat myself to an orange if I had the money to splurge.”

Bucky stares at him. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking anymore.”

Steve laughs at him and smiles knowingly. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Bucky says, leaning in like it’s some secret. Bucky trusts Steve, and he hopes Steve trusts him back.

All Steve does is smile at him, and they stare at each other for a few long seconds until the moment is ruined by someone shouting Steve’s name in an excited voice. Bucky watches as Steve lets out a sigh and looks to the ground before swallowing and giving Bucky a forgiving smile. “I should probably – ” He makes a gesture to the group of women calling him over.

“Yeah, okay. Good luck.”

Steve smiles. “Thanks. I’m probably going to need it. Have a good time, Buck.”

With that, Steve walks away and Bucky suddenly feels empty.

Bucky doesn’t really mean to get drunk. It mostly happens on accident. After sending Sam a bunch of panicked texts from the bathroom, Bucky comes back out to the party and orders another drink. He can’t help it that when he feels awkward he takes a sip of his drink. He also can’t help the fact that he feels awkward a lot.

So, it’s only a matter of time until Bucky is drunk enough to not feel self-conscious about sitting by himself in a corner of the party, his head bent over his phone. Everyone has relocated to the roof to watch the fireworks that haven’t started yet.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Bucky looks up and has to blink a few times until his eyes focus in on Steve. He’s beaming at Bucky, his hands carefully placed in his pockets, his thumbs sticking out.

“Steve!” he exclaims, tugging Steve down onto the couch next to him.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says quietly, a fond smile on his face. “What are you up to?”

Bucky holds out his phone, the Twitter app open. “Sam tells me not to tweet when I’m drunk, but I think this one is really funny.”

Squinting to read the draft that Bucky has open, Steve makes a face. “Bucky, I can’t even decipher what you wrote here. Are you sure this is English?”

“I do know some Russian,” Bucky hums, clicking his phone shut. “I’ll save it for tomorrow. Have Sam proofread it first. Maybe I should leave now.”

“The fireworks are about to start,” Steve points out. “Watch the fireworks with me and then I’ll bring you home. Is that okay?”

Bucky hesitates, but then burst into giggles. “You’re bringing me home? That’s so…God, you really are Captain America. Aren’t you worried Sam is going to be angry at you.”

Steve looks confused, but Bucky catches the red tint on his cheeks.

“Tony told me that you thought Sam was my boyfriend,” Bucky says, still laughing. “He’s not. Sam is so straight. It’s gross. Can’t believe I’m even friends with him.”

“Really?” Steve asks, looking awed.

“It was a joke. He’s not that gross. He does leave his socks everywhere but that’s not because he’s straight – ”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You mean Sam isn’t your boyfriend?”

Bucky makes a show of shaking his head. “Nope.”

Steve says something but Bucky doesn’t hear it with the way he leans into Steve and sighs, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder. They stay like that for a few moments until the fireworks start up, the first loud bang making Bucky flinch. His instincts tell him to retreat, to hide under something, to protect at all costs. All he lets himself do, though, is ball his hands into fists and hide his face in Steve’s chest, muttering, “Loud.”

After a few seconds, Steve’s hand comes up to hesitantly touch Bucky’s back, rubbing in calming circles. Bucky lets out a sigh at the gesture and burrows deeper. He’s sobered a little from the fear, but he isn’t drunk enough to think this is okay. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, that he’s most likely making a fool of himself, but he lets himself be held by Steve as the fireworks go off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a short chapter, but thanks for everyone that is leaving me kudos/commenting. It really means a lot :")

Bucky wakes up to the sound of laughter.

He’s blinking awake, a headache already set in and his mouth incredibly dry, when he rolls over and tries to decipher whom the voices belong to. The noises are too faint, though, so he stands to get out of bed, head only a little dizzy, only to realize that he’s still wearing the shirt from last night, but has managed to slip out of his pants.

Slinking to the kitchen, he brightens up a little at the smell of coffee wafting down the hall. The voices become clearer, and it’s only when he’s standing in the doorway, that his brain finally supplies who the extra person is.

Steve is sitting in Bucky’s kitchen across from Sam. He’s wearing the same clothes from last night too, his button up looking like it was hastily thrown on. There are actually only a few buttons done over his torso, and his cuffs are sloppily rolled up. His hair is sleep mused, random strands of hair sticking up adorably. Bucky tries hard not to stare, but he knows he is.

The two of them are laughing at something when they realize Bucky is in the doorway, and when they both turn to look at him, their smiles only get wider.

“Well, good morning, princess,” Sam quips.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at Bucky sweetly and with a hint of amusement. Bucky quickly flattens his hair that’s become wild overnight. He’s suddenly self-conscious of his pale, bare legs and his wrinkled t-shirt.

“Uh, hi,” Bucky says to Steve carefully.

Just before Steve can say anything, Sam goes, “You should have told me that you were having him over last night. I nearly beat Steve up this morning while I was getting ready for my run when I saw him sleeping on the couch.”

Suddenly, Bucky realizes what exactly happened last night. After a few minutes of fireworks, Steve had shuttled him to a taxi and then made sure he got home okay. Embarrassingly, though, Bucky remembers falling into bed and asking for Steve to stay the night. Bucky figures there’s at least a fifty percent chance he tried to spoon Steve before he finally gave in and slept on the couch. He’s too scared to ask for details, though.

“You sure you could beat me up?” Steve asks teasingly.

Sam scoffs. “I took, like, five lessons in karate for a movie a did once. I could definitely take you and your striped tights.”

Bucky stares at the two of them. This must be a horrible dream.

Accepting his fate, Bucky heads for the cupboard with the mugs to get himself some coffee. “Yeah, and I definitely remember you shedding a few tears when that little kid that was a black belt beat the shit of you,” Bucky hums.

“She played dirty!” Sam defends as Steve laughs loudly.

“She was, like, twelve years old, Sam.”

“At least I had the balls to fight her. You just watched like a pussy.”

Bucky shrugs, sitting down in the chair next to Steve’s.

Steve gives him a quick onceover before asking, “How are you feeing?”

“I’m okay,” Bucky tells him, a little embarrassed that Steve had to deal with his drunk ass again.

“I was telling Steve that you never drank as a teenager so now you don’t know your limits as an adult,” Sam tells Bucky.

Bucky cringes. “That’s sweet of you. Thanks, asshole.”

Steve laughs before finishing off his own mug of coffee, placing it down carefully on the counter. He leans back into his chair and stretches his arms, something popping in the process, and then says, “I should probably get out of your hair.”

Bucky shrugs, hoping it’s just enough encouragement to let Steve know that he can stay longer if he wants. Steve, though, stands from his chair and carefully finishes buttoning his shirt, deft hands working the small buttons. Bucky, again, tries not to stare, but based on the amused expression on Sam’s face when he looks away, he was failing.

Bucky walks Steve to the door, distractedly watching Steve slip on his shoes (that he had left straight and orderly at the door the night before) as he tries to think of what to say. All that ends up coming out is, “I’m sorry about last night.”

Steve looks up, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “For what?”

“Well, you know,” Bucky says stupidly, not wanting to say the obvious. “Everything.”

Like, getting drunk and making Steve hold him during the fireworks. For forcing Steve to take him home and leave his party early. For begging him like a child for Steve to stay the night.

He can’t actually say these things, though.

“Bucky,” Steve says firmly. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Something about the words, or the way Steve is looking at him so intently, or the gentle hand he places on Bucky’s shoulder nearly make Bucky cry. He resolutely looks to the floor and shrugs minutely. “Okay.”

There is a moment of silence, and when Bucky looks back up, Steve is still staring at him, his mouth slightly parted and eyes bright. Bucky can’t look away from him, and it feels like their bodies are drawing in together like two magnets. Breathing shallowly, Bucky leans in, eyes closing automatically as he waits for the soft press of Steve’s lips.

They never come.

When he opens his eyes again, Steve is biting his lip in what looks like heavy contemplation.

Bucky starts to think he read the whole situation wrong, and that Steve wasn’t leaning in too, and that he –

“I want to go on a date with you,” Steve says abruptly.

“ _A date_?”

“I really like you, Bucky,” Steve tells him. “And if you like me too, then maybe you want to go on a date with me? I haven’t ever really been on a proper date with anyone, so it might be horrible. But, uh, yeah.”

Bucky gawks at him. He doesn’t know what to say.

He must have been silent for longer than intended because Steve is quickly saying, “If you don’t want to, you don’t – ”

“I do!” Bucky says loudly, scared he’ll miss his opportunity. “I really like you too, Steve. I want to go on a date with you.”

Steve brightens up at this, the smile on his face radiant. “Good.”

Bucky smiles back at him. “Good.”

Steve promises to text him and Bucky promises to remember to reply, and then Steve is walking away, looking back once he’s at the end of the hall to smile at Bucky happily. Bucky leans against the doorway for a few moments after he leaves, the smile still on his face.

Eventually, he heads back into the apartment and flops onto the sofa, already checking his phone for a message from Steve. Predictably, nothing has come in yet. He’s happy, but there is something looming over him, trying desperately to bring him down when he doesn’t want to.

“What just happened?”

Bucky flinches, not realizing that Sam had walked in. He’s now eyeing Bucky suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, looking away with a smile on his face.

Sam groans. “You sleep with him last night?”

Bucky chokes on his spit when he hears this, coughing loudly into elbow. “I did not!” he splutters.

“Wow,” Sam says, shaking his head. “That was just sad to watch, man.”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Bucky grumbles. “We’re not even – well, kind of, but that’s not the point. Nothing happened last night except for me being an idiot.”

Sam stares at him. “You know I’m just going to annoy you until you tell me everything. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. I’m not used to you having another friend.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, smiling. “Fuck you.”

This only makes Sam laugh. Bucky thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he ends up telling Sam everything. Ever since Steve came out to him, Bucky’s felt like he had to keep it all to himself (he didn’t even tell his therapist) but he figures it’s safe to tell Sam. When he finishes, smiling goofily as he recalls their conversation in the hallway, Sam just leans back into the couch with a contemplative look on his face that eventually melts into a smile.

“Bucky and Steve sitting in a tree – ”

“ _Sam_ ,” Bucky sighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Jesus, Buck, go on a date with him, and fall in love, and have his babies,” he says. “It’s not that complicated.”

Bucky wants to laugh, and wants to see it as that easy, but he look down into his lap, a heavy feeling in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t get it out. Sam waits patiently, and Bucky is grateful for it. Eventually, he quietly says, “I don’t think he needs all my bullshit in his life.”

“You know that’s not true,” Sam says instantly.

“It is,” Bucky replies. “He’s Steve Rogers, and I’m not that kind of person he should be associating with, let alone dating.”

Sam groans. “I know what you’re doing. I know it because you tried to do this bullshit with me, too. Don’t distance yourself because you think you don’t deserve someone. You do, you asshole. I promise.”

Bucky’s heard it all before. “I want to believe you.”

“Then believe me,” Sam says seriously, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Because I’m always right.”

Despite himself, Bucky smiles. He tangles his hands together nervously until he hesitantly asks, “You don’t think he’ll get sick of me?”

“If he hasn’t yet, then he probably won’t.”

To be fair, Steve has put up with inebriated Bucky twice now.

Bucky leans back into the sofa and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you think I should tell him about that essay I wrote about him in middle school?” he asks abruptly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “Definitely don’t do that.”


	8. Chapter 8

Steve shows up with flowers for their date.

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting from someone who was born in the twenties, but when he opens the door, he finds Steve awkwardly clutching onto a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. It looks like something he picked up on impulse from a street vendor on the way over, but Bucky smiles at it, not entirely sure what to say.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Steve says then, holding out the bouquet for Bucky. “But I, uh, saw these and thought they seemed right?”

Bucky takes them, staring down into the thin mix of flowers. He holds them to his chest and smiles. “Thanks,” Bucky says quietly. “I haven’t been on a date since, like, middle school, so I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”

“The blind leading the blind,” Steve says, smiling a little. “Sounds good.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh and lets Steve in, gesturing to the kitchen before leaving him in the doorway to rummage around in the kitchen for something to put the flowers in. He ends up going with a tall beer glass, filling it with water and then stuffing the flowers into it. After placing it on the counter, he heads back out to the doorway to find Steve crouched down, his hand extended hesitantly to Bucky’s black cat.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Steve tells him, looking up briefly before giving all the attention to Sputnik, who is still smelling Steve’s hands curiously.

“Yeah, he probably was hiding last time you were here,” Bucky tells Steve, shrugging. “He doesn’t like company, usually.”

Steve tries to reach out to scratch his neck, but Sputnik recoils, moving back to sit safely at Bucky’s feet. Steve makes a disappointed noise before standing up.

“Come on, Nick,” Bucky hums, picking up the fat cat from the ground and heaving him into his arms so that he’s cradled like a baby. He stares up at Bucky angrily. “Sputnik, be nice. Say hi to Steve.”

“Sputnik?” Steve asks, smiling down at the cat.

“You know, the first satellite in space,” Bucky tells him, moving closer so that Steve can pet Sputnik. “I think when he grows up he wants to be an astronaut. That or a Russian, I guess.”

Steve laughs at Bucky’s stupid jokes as he pets the cat, leaning down slightly so that he’s eyelevel with him. He scratches his neck and coos, “Hi, Sputnik.”

Unsurprisingly, Sputnik struggles to get out of Bucky’s grip, clawing at his arms until he’s safely back on the ground and running away from the two of them.

“He didn’t try to attack you when he first saw you, so he probably likes you,” Bucky tells him.

Steve seems unconvinced. “He’s attacked someone?”

“First day he met Sam. He’s warmed up to him, though.”

Laughing, Steve sticks his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket and stands awkwardly, clearly unsure of what to do next. Bucky slips into his shoes and then gives Steve a smile. “You ready to go?”

Steve smiles and nods, letting Bucky out the door first. Outside, there is already a cab waiting, and Steve politely opens the door for Bucky. He’s probably more amused by it than he should be, but Bucky gets in and makes room for Steve, their thighs just touching enough for Bucky to pretend like he doesn’t even notice it.

“So, I booked us a table at this nice restaurant,” Steve says once the car pulls into traffic. He makes a face then, though. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve never been to the restaurant myself, but Tony said it was perfect. I don’t know if I should be trusting him, but I double checked with Pepper. Just to be safe.”

Bucky laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be great. And if not, I probably have some old hot dogs in my freezer we can thaw out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of them are smiling at each other, and Bucky suddenly realizes how nervous he is. His hands are sweating and he feels vaguely sick with the way that Steve is looking at him. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like _that_. He’s not sure if anyone ever has.

All Bucky wants to do is lean in and kiss him, and run his hands through his hair, and let himself get lost in Steve. He knows he can’t, and that he’s not allowed, but Steve is giving him a look that only reads as permission. Right before Bucky says something he’ll definitely regret, the sharp trill of a cell phone going off makes the two of them jump.

“That’s me, sorry,” Steve says quickly, pulling his phone out from his jacket pocket and looking at the screen. Something in his face changes when he sees who it is. “I’m really sorry, Buck. I need to take this. It’ll just be real quick.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky assures him, smiling softly. He feels a little relieved by the distraction.

Steve gives him an apologetic look before putting the phone to his ear. Bucky looks away, his eyes watching the New York City traffic as he pretends to give Steve some privacy.

“Natasha, I swear if this is something about – ” He stops, the person on the other line not quite talking loud enough for Bucky to pick it up. “Oh, shit. I’m, well, I can come now. I need twenty minutes.”

Bucky tries not to feel disappointed. He doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“Tell them I’ll be there. Bye, Nat.”

Looking back over once Steve’s hung up, Bucky gives Steve an expectant expression. It’s clear that Steve is troubled about having to spill his news, his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes not quite meeting Bucky’s.

“Uh,” Steve starts, voice quiet. “They need me and we have to leave now. I’m – Bucky, I’m really sorry.”

The Avengers need him. The world needs him. Because he’s a superhero.

Bucky swallows thickly and smiles. “Steve, it’s your job. You don’t have to apologize.”

“It’s just…bad timing,” Steve finally says. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing or else you’ll never get a rain check.”

The worries that are written all over Steve’s face melt away into a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and leans forward to ask the driver to pull over. He’s about to tell Steve that he’ll walk back, but Steve gives him a look that says he won’t hear it. So, Bucky stays where he is, not sure what to expect as the car pulls up to the side of the road.

“I should get going,” Steve says softly, gesturing to the door.

Bucky nods. The two of them stare at each other, and Bucky is almost positive that Steve is going to kiss him. Steve face is still pinched, though, and his phone is beeping with messages. He looks down to the brightened screen and sighs.

He’s halfway out the door when he says, “Bye, Bucky. I’ll call you when I can.”

***

Steve is gone for three weeks.

It’s a few days after Steve’s disappearance that Bucky is flipping feverishly through the news stations to find out about a series of HYDRA attacks in various big cities in Europe. Bucky clutches the remote with white knuckles and watches grainy, cell phone shot videos of the Avengers fighting. The smallest of glimpses of Steve make him feel sick, and eventually, Sam has to click the TV off for him.

He gets no phone calls or even text messages about how Steve is doing. The most reliable way of finding out his well-being is watching different news broadcasts and searching up “Captain America” online every morning.

What starts as overwhelming worry rounds out to frustration and eventually anger. He knows it’s not right to be angry at Steve for doing his job, and there is probably no time for him to check in with a friend, but he wishes he could make an exception. By the third week, Bucky stops checking the news at all.

Sam leaves a few days before Steve gets back. He packs all his things in a pile of suitcases and hugs Bucky tightly before leaving to the airport to fly to Toronto. Bucky can tell he’s nervous to leave him alone, and he doesn’t exactly blame Sam for it. He still leaves, though, with the promise to FaceTime every night after filming finishes.

It’s late one night when someone rings up to the apartment. Bucky pads to the intercom and asks who it is.

“It’s me,” Steve says, deep voice hesitant. “It’s Steve.”

Bucky leans his head against the wall, mouth turned into a frown. He nearly wants to punch the guy at the sound of his voice, but he also wants to hold him close and make sure he never leaves again. It’s conflicting.

Bucky lets him up and then paces in front of the door until Steve knocks. He thinks he knows exactly what he’s going to tell him, but it all changes when he opens the door. Steve is standing there in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt, the faded lines of healing cuts apparent on his arms and one particularly bad looking one on his neck. His hair is flat against his head, only a few random strands sticking up, and his whole left eye is dark with an ugly colored bruise.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky says quietly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. We couldn’t. Not until we were done,” Steve says. “I would’ve, though. I mean it.”

Steve looks like he’s waiting for Bucky to yell at him, but all of Bucky’s anger is gone. He shifts uncomfortably and then lunges over to hug Steve. He’s not sure if it’s allowed, or if he should even be doing it in the first place, but Steve responds immediately, wrapping his arms around Bucky tightly, the two of them still standing in Bucky’s doorway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Bucky’s head tucked into Steve’s chest. He can smell the sweat and blood on him, but Bucky only pushes closer, wanting to make sure he’s okay. Besides quick hugs from Sam, Bucky hasn’t been hugged like this for a long time. He nearly wants to start crying with the way he leans into Steve.

Eventually, though, they step back to look at each other. Bucky can’t help but to bring a hand up to gingerly run a finger over Steve’s jaw. He has some stubble growing in, and Bucky lets his fingers brush against it.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks then.

Bucky smiles slowly and then nods. Steve doesn’t waste any time leaning in and closing the gap between them. Suddenly, all the time Bucky has spent waiting for this moment seems worth it. Steve’s kisses start out soft but grow rougher, like he’s been waiting a long time for this too. Bucky’s hand falls from Steve’s face and clutches at the front of Steve’s shirt, knuckles wrapped in the thin fabric.

They pull apart, their noses still touching as they lean into each other.

“You’re not angry at me?” Steve asks hesitantly.

Bucky laughs softly. “No. As long as you’re okay.”

Steve looks confused, so Bucky gestures to the black eye and then lets his fingers run the thin line of the healing scar on Steve’s neck.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve hums, like he forgot about it. “It’ll probably all be gone in a few hours. Back to new.”

Bucky smiles and leans in for another kiss. His hands are starting to wind back into the fabric of Steve’s shirt when he pulls back abruptly. “ _Shit_ ,” he hisses, rushing to the kitchen, leaving behind a confused Steve Rogers.

In the kitchen, Bucky quickly turns off the stove, smirking at Steve as he walks in. “Sorry. I forgot I was making tea,” he tells him. “You want a cup?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Bucky smiles to himself as he gets two mugs from the cupboard and puts in the tea bags. Steve watches as he pours the hot water into the mugs and then places the kettle back onto the stovetop.

“Do you want some sugar?” Bucky asks. “I think I might have some honey somewhere too?”

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

Bucky gently pushes the cup towards Steve and then stares into his. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

He takes Steve smile as a yes. That’s how they end up with Steve huddled on the couch, his cup of tea still steaming as Bucky looks through his collection of DVD’s. He already has something in mind, and hopes Steve likes it when he puts the disc into the player.

“So, I remember you telling me that you liked animated movies,” Bucky tells him as he sits down next to Steve, their bodies just barely touching. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen anything more recent but, uh, this movie was released a few years back. It’s called ‘The Wind Rises’ and I thought maybe you’d like it. Parts of it are actually set in World War Two.”

Steve looks up from his cup of tea with surprised expression on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, fiddling with the remote control. “It’s set in Japan, though.”

“Oh.”

It’s only then that Bucky wonders if he’s doing the wrong thing. Steve seems fine talking about his days in the army, but maybe he doesn’t want any reminders of it. Maybe he’s like Bucky, and he –

“I have a bunch of other stuff, if you don’t want to watch it,” Bucky says quickly, practically already ejecting the disc.

“It’s fine, Buck,” Steve assures him with a smile. “It sounds interesting.”

Bucky takes his word for it and starts up the movie. The two of them slowly sink into the couch, sipping at their cups of teas and intently watch as the movie unfolds. Bucky’s seen it before, so he mostly spends the movie glancing over to see Steve’s reaction to scenes. He tries to make it discreet, but Steve keeps catching him, smiling shyly under Bucky’s gaze.

By the end of the movie, their empty mugs are on the coffee table and Bucky is leaning into Steve. Bucky’s surprised to see Steve wiping his eyes when it ends, but he doesn’t say anything, only watches the credit scene tiredly. On his phone, it says it’s a quarter past midnight.

He expects Steve to get home, but instead Steve stays. They sit on the sofa and talk about the movie, and Steve ends up in a spiral of war stories that either make Bucky laugh or makes his stomach get tight with memories of his own time in the military.

After a few stories, Steve stops himself and quietly, as if knowing it’s a sensitive subject, asks, “Why don’t you ever talk about your time in the army?”

Bucky licks his lips and fiddles with a loose thread on his sweatpants. “It just wasn’t the best time for me. I pushed myself to join even when I didn’t really want to. Then, things just – they weren’t good.”

“Why didn’t you want to join?”

“Uh, it was kind of a thing in my family,” Bucky explains slowly. “You weren’t a man until you joined the army, or whatever. I didn’t want to, though. I had seen what it did to my grandpa, and I didn’t want that for myself. I wanted to become a photo journalist or a musician or…anything that wasn’t the army, really.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly.

He’s not asking the question that Bucky has been dreading since the movie ended, or even since he met Steve. Bucky is positive he wants to ask, though. Steve keeps his question to himself, though, and looks over to the TV that’s back to the menu screen, soft music playing.

“You can ask,” Bucky finally tells him.

The only people Bucky’s ever talked to about it were Sam and his therapist, and it took a near mental breakdown and months of trust to even bring it up. Whether it’s a mistake or not, Bucky trusts Steve. He already knows so much about his past, and feels like Steve wouldn’t judge him.

“Why did you join then?” he asks hesitantly, quickly adding on, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Bucky shakes his head and then stares into the carpet and says, “My parents died in a car crash right before I graduated high school. After that, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I felt like the only thing to do was to join the army and do what my dad always wanted me to do.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve says quietly, placing a careful hand on Bucky’s knee.

Bucky shrugs, like the story doesn’t even hurt anymore. It does, but not as much as it used to.

“You shouldn’t have had to do anything you didn’t want to.”

Something about it is surprising for Bucky to hear. He had been a little worried that Steve would give him a long look and tell him that it _was_ the right thing to join the army. Steve doesn’t, though, and only gives him a sympathetic look. Of course Steve understands, Bucky thinks.

“Whatever happened out there, I’m sorry,” Steve then says. His words are clearly carefully chosen.

This, though, Bucky refuses to talk about with anyone. The only people he’s talked about it to were the army investigators and officers he had to give his detailed reports to after he was rescued. He can’t talk about it, not to anyone. It doesn’t sting in the same way his parent’s death does. It feels like all the hurt is over, and he’s left numb, when he thinks about it. It feels like he’s still on that metal table, his whole body numb after hours of thrashing and yelling with pain.

So, Steve doesn’t ask, and Bucky doesn’t offer. He tries to ignore the phantom pain in his left arm. He remembers what he learned in physical therapy, and how his arm is almost the same as it was before, except for the scars running down the skin. 

Instead, Steve senses the fear and pulls out his wallet from his back pocket. Bucky watches curiously as he plucks out a chain necklace, two worn, circular dog tags hanging from the end. He holds it out to Bucky, and he collects the chain in the palm of his hand.

“I was wearing them when the plane went down,” Steve tells him. “They gave them to me when I got back today at headquarters.”

Bucky runs his thumb over the _ROGERS, STEVEN GRANT_ indented into the metal.

“I was going to throw it away because that part of my life is over,” Steve says. “But I think I might keep it. As a reminder that it _is_ over.”

The metal shines off the lights and Bucky nods. “You should.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Work has been exhausting. Hope everyone's doing okay :")

Bucky’s part of the audience for the Avenger’s press release.

He hadn’t actually planned to go, but Steve had casually mentioned it, offhandedly saying how he thought Bucky took the best photographs of him. Bucky knows it was pointed, so he shows up to the release with a press badge around his neck (that really wasn’t much trouble to get ahold of, even without Steve’s help) and his camera in the other.

The Avengers are all sitting at a long table, little place cards with their names printed on them in front of each person. Steve is bent over, eyes staring into the table, his hands clasped formerly in front of him. Next to him, Tony Stark is scanning the crowd, and when his eyes meet Bucky’s, he lights up. When Tony knocks Steve with his elbow and says something to him, Steve startles up, instantly spotting Bucky. He grins then, and Bucky can’t help but to hear the distant flurry of shutter clicks. Completely unaware of his attention, Steve nods his head and then looks back to Tony, who is still talking.

Bucky fiddles with the lens cap on his camera until everything starts. He’s never actually been to a press release, so he’s not sure what to expect. It’s mostly awkward silences, pointed questions, and rehearsed answers. Everyone seems confident with how they talk about the HYDRA attacks. Steve talks the least, mostly nodding approvingly when one of the Avengers talks. When he does talk, though, he glides through his answers, appeasing everyone around Bucky.

He takes photographs throughout, but he mostly only notices Steve. He catches the distinct furrow of his brows, and the tentative way he leans forward and listens to his teammates words. The photographs of the other team members don’t feel as personal, and Bucky glosses over them.

When it finishes, all the Avengers are whisked away into the back before they can be mobbed with more questions. Bucky puts the cap back on his lens and starts to head for the exit when his phone beeps. It’s Steve, with a short message to talk to the doormen outside the room he just went into.

Sure enough, the doormen is aware of who he is and lets him in only after a solid thirty second stare down. Inside, it leads to an empty hallway, several corridors leading off from it. Bucky looks back to his phone, to see if Steve’s messaged him again, and when he looks back up after finding nothing, Steve is walking towards him, a soft smile on his face.

“Did I do okay?” he asks. “I was so nervous.”

Bucky nods his head. “I couldn’t even tell. It was really good. Plus, I got good photos of you.”

“That’s all that really mattered anyways,” Steve teases, now wrapping his arms around his torso. It makes him look small, if that’s even possible, and Bucky can feel the way that he clearly doesn’t even want to think about the photographs.

They stand across from each other for a few comfortable seconds before Bucky steps forward bravely, right into Steve’s space. He’s asking a question he won’t say out loud, and Steve responds wordlessly by leaning forward and meeting Bucky halfway.

Steve’s nervous energy seems to fade away as they kiss, the two of them taking a few steps back until Steve’s back hits the wall. Bucky hands are gentle on the carefully pressed fabric of Steve’s shirt. Steve, though, fists at Bucky’s shirt, pulling him closer until they’re chest to chest.

Everything seems a little backwards, but Bucky can’t actually remember how finding someone is supposed to work. He’s not sure if he was really supposed to go on a date in a nice restaurant with Steve before they got to know each other or kissed. He’s not sure if they were supposed to take things slower, either. The only thing he knows is that kissing Steve feels too right for it not to be.

Bucky’s leg slips in between Steve’s, and his breath hitches slightly before –

“I didn’t know that Captain America was an exhibitionist.”

The two of them pull apart quickly, Bucky nearly spiraling out across the hall until he catches sight of the redhead a few steps away. She’s smirking, clearly reveling in their embarrassment. Steve is blushing red, mouth open and lips wet as he puts his hands into his pockets awkwardly.

“Jesus, Natasha, can you please stop sneaking up on me,” Steve whines.

She smirks. “Can’t help it. It’s a habit I can’t shake, I guess.”

Bucky straightens his shirt and then holds out a hand to the Black Widow. “Hi, I’m Bucky.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, but eventually clasps his hand, her grip firm. “I know,” she says coyly. “Natasha Romanoff.”

Before Bucky can even shoot Steve a confused look to her vague response, a booming voice comes from down the hallway.

“James!” Thor exclaims as he walks closer.

When he catches up to them, he pulls Bucky into an unexpected hug. Bucky is stiff for a few seconds before giving in and letting himself be hugged by the blond giant.

With Thor, Tony, Dr. Banner, and Clint Barton are all watching them curiously. Bucky gives them an awkward wave and assumes everyone already knows who he is if Steve’s exasperated expression is anything to go off of.

“We need to leave,” Steve says, tugging at Bucky’s arm, giving everyone pointed looks.

“You bringing him home, Cap?” Tony asks. “You gonna show him some _patriotic values_?”

Steve makes a face. “Tony, please – ”

Clint actually giggles before saying, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of that good – ”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Steve says firmly.

Everyone is still laughing when Steve pulls Bucky to the exit, yanking him out the doors before Bucky can get a chance to say goodbye. Steve lets go of him once they’re outside, but only so he can hold open the door to the car waiting. Once inside, Steve is still blushing when he mutters, “Sorry about them.”

Bucky leans back in his seat and smiles softly at Steve. “You blush a lot.”

Steve only blushes harder.

***

Steve is on the couch with Sputnik in his lap when the food arrives.

Bucky hadn’t meant to invite Steve up when the car stopped at his apartment building, but he couldn’t help himself. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though, and instantly took him up on his offer. After lounging for a bit and then scrambling to get Sputnik out from under Bucky’s bed when Steve mentioned he wanted to see him again, they had ordered pizza.

“I might’ve went overboard,” Bucky mumbles as he sets down the two boxes and a plethora of smaller ones on the coffee table.

Steve smiles up at him. “ _Might’ve_?”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky retreats to the kitchen to get plates and silverware. When he gets back, Steve is attempting (and failing) to remove Sputnik from his lap.

“Come on, buddy,” he says quietly. “I have to eat. Just – work with me, pal.”

Bucky tries not to laugh too hard when he easily yanks Sputnik from Steve’s laps and places him on the ground. “He’s going to keep taking advantage of you, Steve,” Bucky tells him knowingly.

After Steve washes his hands, the two of them dig into their food. Instead of turning on a movie, they sit facing each other on the couch and chat. It’s mostly light, and Bucky is happy to talk about his last few days, nearly going on a rant about a rude celebrity he dealt with at a party.

They end up talking most of the night away, the two of them slowly inching closer and closer to each other. There’s a lull in the conversation and the two of them just look at each other. Bucky suddenly feels nervous, his eyes drifting down self-consciously. Pushing a strand of hair behind his ear, he looks up to find Steve smiling softly.

“Do you wannna spend the night?”

Steve’s smile falters a little, and Bucky feels like an idiot for even asking.

“Buck, it’s not that – I just,” Steve stumbles, taking a big breath before continuing. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

“Yeah, no, totally. Sorry for mentioning it.”

Steve frowns. “It’s not you. I’ve just never, well, with – “

“Oh, no,” Bucky says quickly, suddenly realizing what Steve is talking about it. “I wasn’t asking to have sex with you. I mean, I would – ” Bucky cringes, running a nervous hand through his hair as he blushes. “I was only asking if you wanted to spend the night. Nothing else.”

Steve stares at him for a few intense moments and then breaks into nervous giggles. Bucky laughs with him, covering his hot face with his hands.

“Don’t laugh at me!” he exclaims.

“I’m not at you,” Steve tells him through laughter. “I don’t think either of us knows what we’re doing.”

“We don’t,” Bucky tells him, uncovering his eyes to see Steve’s radiant smile.

“I want to, though.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, staying silent and refusing to put his foot in his mouth again.

“I want to stay the night with you,” Steve explains. “If you’ll have me.”

After Bucky rolls his eyes, the two of them retreat to the bedroom and Bucky is grateful that it’s not a disaster like it usually is. He casually kicks a few random pieces of clothing towards the closet and finds Steve some pajamas to wear, knowing that they’ll inevitably be too small on him.

When he comes back from the bathroom, Bucky’s guess was right. The plain white shirt is looks three sizes too small on Steve, and Bucky has to look away to save himself the embarrassment of staring too long. Bucky sometimes forgets the man is literally a supersolider.

Excusing himself to the bathroom, Bucky tries to tame his hair as much as he can, even if they’re about to sleep. He brushes his teeth for five minutes too long and even flosses for once. His sweatpants don’t look right and he’s worried his shirt smells funny, but he finally forces himself to go back and join Steve.

He’s not expecting to find him sitting on the edge of the bed nearly in hysterics.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” Steve says when he catches Bucky staring at him with an undoubtedly horrified expression on his face. “It’s just – it had my name on it. I had to read it!”

Sure enough, Steve has Bucky’s eighth grade essay on Captain America in his grip. Upon closer inspection, Steve even has tears in his eyes as he reads along, “ _’Steve Rogers was instrumental in the war efforts, and without his involvement the United States would have lost the war_.’”

“That’s a great thesis statement for a middle school paper,” Bucky argues, choking down his embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to leave it lying out, but after he mentioned it to Sam, he decided to dig it out of his old boxes.

Steve is still snorting with laughter when he goes, “Come on, Buck. You didn’t actually believe this, right?”

“Obviously I did,” Bucky says, shrugging.

Steve looks offended. “We would’ve won, with or without me,” Steve says firmly. His eyes scan the essay and a forlorn expression falls on his features as he reads something. “’ _Although Rogers paid the ultimate sacrifice in war, dying at the tragically young age of twenty-one, his efforts towards the war changed the course of history forever_.’”

Bucky swallows thickly. “Makes you sound like a ghost,” he says nervously.

“I feel like one sometimes,” Steve admits quietly.

Gingerly taking the essay from him, Bucky lets it float to the ground as he sits down in the bed next to Steve. He carefully places his hand over Steve’s chest. He can just vaguely feel the pulse of his heart. “You’re not a ghost,” Bucky assures him.

Steve nods and then gives a hint of smile. A few seconds pass before Bucky leans in to kiss Steve, the two of them falling into place so perfectly. Steve kisses back sweetly and chastely and Bucky doesn’t try to deepen it. He only lingers for a few seconds before pulling away and going, “Let’s go to bed.”

Once the lights get flicked off, Bucky slips under the covers next to Steve. He keeps a cautious space between the two of them, but Steve casually moves closer, so that their legs are touching and their faces are right across from each other.

Bucky is admiring the shadows that the moonlight from the window cast on Steve’s face when Steve quietly says, “For a while when I first woke up, I was angry.”

Not sure if he’s meant to respond, Bucky stays silent, only frowning at Steve until he continues. He grabs for Steve’s hand, though, the contact making him feel warm.

“Everyone I knew was dead and everything was so different,” Steve says. He looks away from Bucky when he says, “I almost wished that I had died, I know it’s stupid and ungrateful.”

“It’s not,” Bucky tells him automatically.

Steve clearly wasn’t fishing for this response, though, and ignores it as he continues. “When I met you, I thought maybe I could try, you know, to be a normal person again and things would get better.”

Bucky can’t meet Steve’s eyes, an ache developing in his chest.

“You kind of came along right when I needed you, Bucky.”

Bucky wants to tell him that Steve did the very same thing. Before Steve came along, Bucky had practically decided that it was unlikely he was ever going to make more friends, and definitely never find a romantic partner. He had decided that his future was unforeseeably bleak. Steve, though, he changed it all. He can’t quite get the words out to tell him, so he only smiles weakly.

“So did you,” he tells Steve quietly.


	10. Chapter 10

When Bucky wakes up, Steve is holding him.

It’s jarring for a few seconds, and Bucky nearly elbows him in his confusion. Last night falls back on him, though, and Bucky resists the urge to squirm out of his arms. Instead, he settles further into them, relishing in his warmth. Steve’s chest is pushed against Bucky’s back, their legs tangled together at the end of the bed. Bucky can feel Steve’s soft breath on his neck, and he closes his eyes with a small smile on his face.

Stupidly, he realizes that he’s never been held like this before.

Bucky’s only ever had one girlfriend in high school, and it was mostly an attempt at combatting the rumors that he was gay. Most of their relationship consisted of awkward, chaste kisses and very public handholding before she dumped Bucky. After that, Bucky’s only slept around. None of the guys ever stayed long enough to cuddle Bucky, and it’s not like Bucky would even want that.

Now, though, Bucky thinks that he’s really been missing out on something. Steve makes him feel protected and wanted and not like he isn’t as awful person as Bucky feels sometimes. He’s not sure if he really deserves his arms around him, though, but he tries to believe for as long as he can.

It turns out to be not as long as he hopes it will be.

Bucky is gulping in big breaths when he finally gets out of the bed, easily slipping out of Steve’s arm without waking him. Taking a quick glance at the sleeping man, Bucky realizes how young Steve looks while sleeping. All his usual hardness is gone, and he actually looks his age as he sleeps on Bucky’s bed.

Quickly turning away, Bucky heads for the kitchen. He leans against the counter and wraps his arms around his torso, suddenly feeling cold without Steve right next to him. He tries to keep his thoughts from spiraling, but that’s all he seems to want to do.

Bucky doesn’t deserve Steve, and Steve shouldn’t have to deal with Bucky, either. He’s been ignoring it and trying his hardest to push down these feelings, but waking up with Steve’s arms around him makes him realize everything.

He hates the way a few tears escape, and he has to wipe them away scornfully, wishing that they never had existed. Desperately, he wants to call Sam. He wants for Sam to talk him down like he’s done a million times before. Even a lengthy talk with his therapist on his feelings sounds better than the guilty feeling in Bucky’s chest.

Just as Bucky is wiping away more tears, quietly trying not to fall apart completely, Steve comes out of the bedroom. Bucky quickly turns his back to Steve, his hands gripping the edge of the counter harshly.

“Hey, I have a busy day today, actually,” Bucky says quickly, voice scratchy and stressed. It’s so obvious he’s crying that Bucky wants to die of shame. “So, maybe it would be best if you’d head out.”

Even though Bucky can’t see him, he can feel Steve step closer. Bucky quickly moves over more, trying his best to silently beg for space. The last thing (and somehow also the only thing) Bucky wants is Steve’s hands on him right now. Steve must sense this, and he doesn’t try to get any closer to Bucky.

“Buck,” he says carefully. “Did I do something?”

“No, fuck. It’s not – ” _It’s not you, it’s me_ , Bucky wants to say. He doesn’t, though, and only struggles for air. “Just, uh, need some space, I guess.” It’s not what he wants to say. He doesn’t want space, not really. He wants to go right back to bed and bury his face into Steve’s chest and forget about everything.

Steve is quiet for a few painful seconds before finally replying, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bucky finally manages to spit out.

“I’ll leave then,” Steve announces quietly. “I don’t want to but I will. I had a really good time yesterday, Bucky. I want to do it again but – I don’t know. I guess I’ll go now.”

Bucky wraps his arms his torso again and wills himself not to say anything or make any noises as Steve leaves. He can hear Steve in his bedroom and then at his doorway. Finally, the sound of the door opening and closing makes Bucky heave out a relieved sigh.

He’s one step closer to forgetting Steve now that he’s gone.

With full intentions of lying in bed all day, Bucky makes his way back to his bedroom. On the bed, though, he finds the pajamas Bucky lent Steve. They’re folded neatly and sitting on the corner of his bed. It feels like they’re taunting Bucky.

When he slips back into the bed, he finds that it still smells of Steve.

***

Somehow, Bucky sleeps most of the day away. When he wakes up, it’s only because his phone is going off loudly on the bedside table. He fumbles around for it blindly for a few seconds before he finally disconnects it from the charger and answers the FaceTime call on the screen.

“Dude, turn on your lights,” is the first thing Sam says, his voice crackling through the speakers.

Bucky groans and rolls over enough so he can switch on the lamp next to his bed. Sitting up, he rubs his face and goes, “Shit, I didn’t mean to sleep this long.”

“Were you at a thing last night or something?” Sam asks, squinting at Bucky suspiciously.

“Uh,” Bucky starts, running a hand through his knotted hair. He needs a shower badly. “Well, I did, I guess. It wasn’t too late, but Steve came over after, and I didn’t sleep in very late so – ”

“Steve came over?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow at him playfully. “Oh, now I know why you’re so tired. The man is a beast, to be fair.”

Bucky cracks a smile despite the sad mood that’s still looming over him. “It’s not like that. We just hung out and he happened to stay the night. Nothing like what you’re thinking.”

Sam suddenly gets serious. “And then you slept all day?”

“I guess.”

A few awkward, silent seconds pass before Sam clears his throat. Bucky looks away from the camera guiltily. He knows what this looks like. Sam’s seen him at his lowest, and easily knows when Bucky is having a bad day. “Did something happen?” he finally asks.

“That’s the thing,” Bucky says quickly. “Nothing happened and yet I still made him leave.”

Sam heaves out a sigh. “Do you like him, Bucky?”

Bucky squints at him. “Do I – _Yes_ , Sam. Obviously.”

“And you want to be with him?”

“Why does that matter? It’s not going to work. He’s fucking Captain America and I’m me,” Bucky says angrily. “And I’m not saying that so you’ll give me a long lecture about how great you think I am. I’m saying it because I know I don’t deserve him. I know it.”

Sam is silent for a long minute. Bucky thinks about how Steve looked asleep on his bed this morning. He’s sure that if he rolled over right now, he’d still be able to smell Steven on his pillowcase.

“Bucky,” he starts carefully. “I’m not going to give you that lecture. I’m sure that I have, like, a thousands times, and so has your therapist, and probably your mom, too. You do deserve him, though. He’s not Captain America; he’s just Steve. You’re just two guys who have been through some hard shit.

You two are happy and you both like each other. That doesn’t happen all the time, Buck. You shouldn’t waste it. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

Bucky can’t reply. He only stares down into his lap.

“Now, I have to go get food before everything closes,” Sam says then. “So, you gotta get out of bed, stop feeling bad for yourself, and go over to Steve’s house and cry it out or something.”

Slowly, Bucky nods, the hint of a smile on his face.

“Make sure to remember to take a shower. I gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Will do. See you later.”

Sam gives him a salute.

Right before hanging up, Bucky quickly says, “Thank you, Sam.”

“Just do as I say,” Sam says, and then hangs up the call.

Feeling a little better, Bucky sits up in his bed and realizes that he has a message from Steve.

“ _Hey, Bucky. I hope you’re doing okay. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable or unhappy last night or this morning. If you need anything, let me know! I miss you. Steve,”_ it reads.

Bucky stares at the message for a long time before finally deciding how he wants to reply. He comes up with a dozen of responses before he finally does the complete opposite. 

Without thinking, he writes out, “ _Are you busy?_ ”

***

Surprisingly, Steve is not busy. He calls Bucky instead of texting him back, and Bucky smiles and huffs laughter into the receiver just at the sound of his voice.

Now, Steve is sitting across from him at a shitty twenty-four hour diner. He’s already eaten so he ordered himself a chocolate milkshake, and drinks it as Bucky picks over his french fries, nervously avoiding talking. He knows what he needs to say, but he can’t get it out. Steve waits patiently for him.

“I didn’t mean to be an ass to you this morning,” Bucky finally says. It’s not exactly his main point, but it’s a starting point.

“You weren’t,” Steve tells him easily.

Bucky drops a fry in his ketchup and scrunches up his face. “I kind of was. I was just freaking out, I guess.”

“About what?”

Bucky laughs with no humor and shrugs.

“Come on, Buck. It wasn’t nothing. You were – ”

“I don’t even know how to explain myself, okay? I – It’s just going to sound insane and pathetic.” He knows it’s stupid to say, especially since he’s trying so hard to be completely honest for once.

Steve looks hurt by Bucky’s words, though. “I wouldn’t think that.”

Nervously, Bucky rips apart his fries and tries to think of the right words. He didn’t give himself time to prepare a speech. He set the entire thing up so quickly so that he wouldn’t have time to over think it. Now, he desperately wishes he would’ve given himself time to at least come up with a script. His feelings seem so messy and chaotic, and he feels like he needs to edit himself after he says two words. All he really wants to do is ask Steve, “Do you really like me?” or “Why haven’t you gotten bored of me yet?” but can’t possibly ask either.

After enough time stalling, Bucky finally sighs and continues looking at his food, refusing to make eye contact. “When I was in the army, shit happened. You know that,” Bucky starts quietly. “I was a prisoner for a while, and a fucking lab rat, and – I don’t know. I don’t even remember some things. All I know is that sometimes I still feel dirty and fucked up by what they did.”

He can’t bear to look up at Steve’s face, but he can practically already imagine the sympathetic looks he always wears.

“That’s why this morning I was a mess. It didn’t seem right to me. For you to hold me and to – ” Bucky cuts himself off, drawing in a big breath before continuing. “For you to care about me, and want to be with me.”

There is a long silence. It makes Bucky so uncomfortable that he’s trying to remember exactly what he said and if he messed up somehow. He still can’t look up at Steve, but he startles when he feels the soft press of Steve’s hand on his own. Bucky watches as Steve grabs his hand, his thumb delicately smoothing over the skin. Still scared but reassured by the touch, Bucky finally meets Steve’s sincere eyes.

“Bucky, you’re so much more than what happened to you,” Steve says. “You’re always going to be a different person because of it, but it’ll never change your worth. You’re – Jesus, Buck, you know how much I care about you and I’m in – ” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly. “I would never see you differently and you shouldn’t, either. You deserve whatever you want.”

He isn’t sure how much of it he actually believes, but something about the way Steve says it, and the gentle brush of his thumb, and the soft way he looks at Bucky, makes him desperately want to believe it. Stupidly, Bucky tries hard not to choke up, swallowing thickly at the thought that Steve could be right.

“And if I want you,” Bucky says quietly. “Do I deserve that?”

Steve smiles softly at him. “Yeah. Definitely.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this chapter took forever, but it's finally here. I actually went to NYC on vacation and got all the stucky feels and I was only in Brooklyn for a few minutes really.

They take things slow for a couple weeks.

Bucky has a busy schedule, surprised to find that ever since his photoshoot with Steve in his apartment, his job offers have multiplied and raised in quality. He’s taking on bigger jobs and trying to hone in on his personal style. Some days are better than others.

On his good days, Bucky walks around a set feeling like he’s in charge and creating a specific atmosphere. He makes friends and he makes connections. When he gets home, he has Steve over. Sometimes they sit in the living room eating takeout and watching TV, and other times they sit on Bucky’s bed and he plays random songs on guitar as Steve sketches him. They always end up staying up too late under the covers, Bucky’s fingers carefully tracing over Steve’s skin.

On bad days, Bucky hides in the bathroom and sends Sam panicked texts about how he’s not sure if he can do any of this. His past will feel heavier than it’s felt in a long time, and he has second thoughts about his and Steve’s relationship. Steve will be gone on a mission and Bucky has to wait by the phone hoping to hear something from him. His bed feels like it will always be cold.

Today, Bucky isn’t sure if it’s a good or a bad day. He figures it’s a mix of the two as he sits down in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal (the only thing he had felt up to making for dinner) and unlocks his phone. There are no new messages from Steve, who is still on a mission, and has been for two weeks.

Bucky had a shoot today with a famous model, and had thought he had done a good job with it. He had even joked around with everyone on set and was excited to get back to his apartment and tell Steve everything. It was only once he got back that he realized Steve was still away.

He scrolls through trashy celebrity news sites partly to see anything on Sam, but mostly for a blurry, candid shot of Steve in his Captain America suit. Before he can even look for either, the top stories make him gasp audibly and squint at his phone.

It’s him.

The first story is titled “ _BREAKING: CAPTAIN AMERICA AND HIS MALE LOVER_ ” and has a paparazzi shot of Steve and Bucky outside of his apartment building, the two of them leaning in and kissing each other. He clicks on the article to find a few other photos collected of the two of them. One is a sneaky photo taken outside of a café, the two of them laughing at something. Another is the two of them waiting for a subway train, holding hands and leaning into each other.

Bucky quickly scans the article, mostly cringing at the horrible story included along with the photos. He ignores most of it and looks at the photos, the two of them happy and clearly oblivious to the cameras. Bucky suddenly feels stupid for not realizing they were being photographed sooner.

Steve’s never made a statement on his sexuality, and definitely not on his relationship with Bucky. A quick search is enough to realize that the internet is exploding about it, hundreds of articles popping up and speculating on their relationship. Part of it makes Bucky feel sick.

He tries to watch some Netflix to distract himself, desperately wishing he could call Steve and see how he feels about the situation. He keeps starting and ending different movies until his phone lights up with a message from Steve.

“Arriving at Stark Tower in thirty minutes. Probably staying the night. You can too.”

Bucky is about to reply when a second message comes in.

“If you want.”

He doesn’t have time to think before he quickly replies that he’s on his way. It’s a short walk to the tower that Bucky’s been to on several occasions for events he’s photographed. When he gets there, though, out of breath and sweating a little, he realizes he has no idea where to go. In the lobby, there is a reception desk, but Bucky has no clue what to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a crazed fan.

He’s about ready to text Steve when Pepper Potts herself walks up to him. She’s dressed in a flowing blouse and a pencil skirt, her heels making her nearly Bucky’s height. She smiles warmly at him and says, “You’re James Barnes, correct?”

“Yeah,” Bucky hums, taken back. He’s talked to her before, but it’s always been at formal events where she was obligated to make her rounds.

“I’m Pepper Potts,” she says. “They’re not back quite yet. They should be soon, but in the meantime you can wait for Steve on his floor, if you’d like.”

Bucky squints a little. He wasn’t aware that Steve had his own floor here. “Sure,” he says, awkwardly slipping his hands into his pockets.

Pepper gestures to the elevator and says, “Follow me.”

Inside the elevator, Pepper talks to the ceiling and it talks back, making Bucky flinch embarrassedly. Pepper smiles kindly at him, but Bucky clutches onto his phone hoping he’ll get another message from Steve. When the doors finally open, Bucky looks to Pepper, silently wondering if she’ll follow him in.

She seems to sense the question because she clears her throat and smiles. “They should be back shortly,” she says. “In the meantime, I’m sure Steve would want you to make yourself at home.”

He’s thankful that she leaves once Bucky steps out of the elevator, choking out a thank you before gaping at the space around him. The place ( _Steve’s_ place) is like a showroom. Everything is perfectly cleaned and decorated so ornately that Bucky doesn’t think anyone’s ever lived in the place before.

He looks around to find a kitchen stocked with fresh food, a bedroom with the bed made perfectly, and a living room with floor to ceiling windows, the New York City skyline bright and beautiful. He’s looking out into the horizon when he hears someone walk into the room.

“Steve,” Bucky breathes out when he catches sight of the man.

Standing there in his suit, Steve smiles tiredly at him. Bucky rushes over to him and throws his arms around him. Steve wastes no time wrapping his arms around Bucky in return, and the two of them stay like that for long minutes, neither of them in a rush to move or even say anything. Bucky buries his face into Steve’s neck and tries not to think further than this moment.

Bucky’s never hugged someone like he hugs Steve. He didn’t even know hugs like this one even existed before. It’s warm, and it’s safe, and Bucky is desperate to stay where they are for a few minutes longer.

When they do pull apart, Bucky only then realizes that there’s a cut high on Steve’s cheek that is already healing. Even worse are the tears in his suit, revealing dried blood and pink skin underneath. Bucky takes a step back and looks him up and down. He’s never seen Steve all dressed up like he is now in person, and there is something horrifying about the realization that his job entails more than boring press and charity events.

Behind Steve, his shield is leaning against the wall, the lights from the window glinting off the shiny metal dirty from whatever fight he’s been through.

Bucky realizes that he’s always going to feel this certain kind of bittersweet sadness when he sees Steve come home from a mission.

“Are you okay?” Bucky finally asks, quiet voice loud in the silence they’ve created.

“Just tired,” Steve says, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Better now that I’m with you.”

Bucky shakes his head and laughs under his breath. “You lived here?” he asks.

Steve shrugs again. “For a little while.”

“Didn’t like it?”

“Wasn’t Brooklyn.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Manhattan is not that bad, you asshole.”

“I think you need to spend more time at my apartment,” Steve says, laughing.

“Is that an invitation?”

Slowly, Steve nods, a soft smile on his lips.

“Let’s go to bed,” Bucky tells him.

Bucky follows Steve’s steps to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother flicking on the lights, the wide windows allow enough light for them navigate around in. Steve stands nervously, though, still in front of the window, his eyes darting around before he finally gestures ambiguously behind him. “Will you, uh,” Steve says, still moving his hands.

Bucky squints at him stupidly until it finally hits him. “Yeah, sure.”

He steps behind Steve and carefully slides his hands against the rough fabric of Steve’s suit until he finds the hidden zipper. Slowly, he pulls it down, Steve’s bare back being exposed inch by inch. The room suddenly feels tense once it’s all the way down, just above the dark material of Steve’s underwear. Worst of all, though, Bucky has the cliché desire to lean forward and kiss his shoulder. He ignores it, and helps Steve shrug off the heavy material from his shoulders.

Once the suit is in a heap on the ground, Steve hunches over and wraps his arms around his torso. He looks impossibly small standing the way he is, like he didn’t just come back from saving the day like he always does. Bucky stands in front of Steve and smiles softly, determined to see Steve smile back. It works, too, and Steve even laughs, dropping his hands and stepping closer to pull Bucky in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” Steve tells him between kisses, the two of them leaning their foreheads together.

Bucky leaves kisses trailing on Steve’s jaw to his mouth. “Missed you too.”

Steve easily leads them to the bed, both of them falling into it and onto each other. With his legs straddling Bucky’s, Steve puts a hand in Bucky’s hair and kisses him heatedly. Bucky runs his hands down Steve’s bare chest, fingers then playing with the band of Steve’s underwear.

He laughs into Steve’s mouth and playfully goes, “Thought you were tired.”

“Mm, changed my mind,” Steve says, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s neck.

Steve shifts just a little, so that their crotches are touching, and Bucky makes a surprised noise and wills himself not to rock into the pressure. He places a careful hand on Steve’s chest. “Hey,” he whispers. “Are you sure about this?”

This makes Steve pull back and let out a heavy breath. “I think,” he admits. He makes a face then, looking down so that his bangs flop over his eyes. “I’ve never – Well, _once_ , but she was…it was different.”

Bucky realizes who he’s talking about. Steve’s only mentioned Peggy a few times, in passing mostly, but Bucky knows who she is. Everyone knows who Peggy Carter is, and their fated romance. Bucky had always assumed it was a sensitive subject, and the look on his face seems to confirm it.

“That’s fine,” Bucky tells him. “But if you aren’t – ”

“I want to,” Steve quickly interrupts Bucky, grinding into him to make his point clearer.

Bucky really can’t argue with that.

Once Steve gets his tongue in Bucky’s mouth and their bodies are moving against each other sinfully slow, Bucky definitely can’t argue with it. He can, though, nudge at Steve so that he can pick his hips up and slip out of his jeans and underwear. Steve gives him a nervous glance, one that Bucky smoothes over with a kiss, and then slips out of his own briefs.

Everything feels more intense after that. Steve keeps making breathy noises, his hand fisted in Bucky’s hair as they rock against each other. Bucky barely keeps himself from kissing visible hickeys into Steve’s neck, his lips moving away only so he can breathe hotly into Steve’s skin.

Bucky’s been so used to the emotionless nights with guys he barely knew the names of that he didn’t realize what he’s been missing. Instead of the frantic, usually inebriated motions of one-night stands, everything is slower and more meaningful in a way that Bucky never thought he’d like. He does, though, and he has no problem showing it with the way he rolls his head back and moans.

When Bucky carefully wraps his hands around Steve, he smiles at the noises that Steve makes.

“ _Shit_ , Bucky,” he hisses out, leaning into the touch.

Bucky twists his hand just right to get Steve humming appreciatively at his work. It’s only a matter of time before Steve is coming, head ducked into Bucky’s neck as he groans softly, his come warm and sticky on Bucky’s skin.

Rolling off from Bucky, Steve lies against him, his forehead resting against Bucky’s arm as he breathes heavily onto his skin. He’s barely even closed his eyes when he abruptly looks up at the mess he’s made and goes, “Oh, jeez. Sorry, Buck, I’ll go – ”

“It’s fine,” Bucky assures him, wrapping an arm around Steve and pulling him closer.

Steve settles back into the touch and is quiet for a few moments. Then, Steve sits up a little so that he’s leaning on his elbow. He gives Bucky a nervous glance before he opens his mouth.

“What if we – would you mind – I mean,” Steve stammers, his face bright red as he stops abruptly to collect himself. He looks like he’s contemplating what to say so Bucky figures he’ll save Steve the embarrassment.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asks, grinning.

Steve starts to say something then chokes, coughing into his fist. Bucky can’t help but to laugh at him, playfully slapping his back as Steve regains his composure.

“That wasn’t what I was asking,” Steve says then, voice a little higher than usual. “Well, kind of, but… _different_?”

Bucky stares at him blankly. “Was it the way I said it?” Bucky asks then. “Steve, do you want to make love to me? Is that better?”

Upon hearing this, Steve cringes, hiding his face in Bucky’s neck. Bucky can hear him laughing, though, and joins along with him.

“I meant, will you – to _me_ ,” Steve finally says, just coherent enough for Bucky to finally grasp what he’s asking.

“Oh,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “You want me to make love to you.”

“ _Buck_!” Steve exclaims, hiding his face again.

Bucky smiles and runs his hand through Steve’s hair, leaning in to kiss the side of his head. “I’m just messing with you,” Bucky tells him quietly. “I will.”

Steve picks up his head to give him a long look. “You’d want to?”

“I’m pretty much up for anything as long as it includes you.”

“Well, then I have good news for you,” Steve tells him, smirking. “Because it does.”

Unsurprisingly, they easily find what they need buried deep in the bathroom cupboards, the two of them exchanging a look that reads, “Probably Tony.” Steve’s nervous, and Bucky can tell, but he tries to calm him with soft touches and cracking stupid jokes so that Steve will smile or even burst into laughter.

When Bucky finally gets in Steve, they’re both quiet, Steve’s mouth parting as he breathes out heavily.

“You good?” Bucky asks quickly, nearly out of breath.

Steve huffs out a breathy laugh. “I’ll be better when you start moving.”

Bucky shakes his head and slowly starts to move his hips, making Steve hiss and clutch onto him. Steve is tight and warm, and Bucky is desperately trying to hold it together so he doesn’t come before it even starts. Steve’s not helping either, with the way he’s groaning and meeting Bucky’s thrusts with his own hips.

He barely even realizes that he’s saying Steve’s name over and over as they move together. Steve shuts him up with his lips, though, kissing Bucky heatedly. When Bucky does come, he breaks the kiss to groan, eyes shut tightly in ecstasy. He’s had sex enough, but he never knew it could feel this good.

Steve comes again right after him, the two of them falling into each other ungracefully, Steve’s elbow knocking into Bucky’s chest painfully. The two of them laugh it off, though, still out of breath and a little sweaty.

They lie silent for a few seconds before Steve breaks into laughter again. “Why did I wait so long?” he asks then.

Bucky barks out a laugh and leans over to kiss him once more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, unfortunately, this is the final chapter. I've really loved writing this one and I probably could've kept writing these two in this universe for another one hundred thousands words, but I figured this would be a good time to end it. Thanks to everyone who kept me going with all their sweet comments and the kudos :")

When Bucky wakes, he’s not entirely sure where he is.

It takes a few moments for his brain to catch up and the following night to be remembered. Beside Bucky, the bed is empty, the only signs of Steve being the wrinkled comforter pulled back. Bucky sits up and rubs his eyes, realizing he’s still naked.

Slipping into his underwear and t-shirt, Bucky heads out of the bedroom. He blindly goes down a hallway that ends up leading to the kitchen where Steve is not present, but a coffee machine is. After searching through the cabinets and finding a mug, Bucky makes himself a cup and starts to walk around again in search for Steve.

He eventually finds him in the living room. He’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, bent over a notebook. There’s an empty mug on the coffee table in front of him and a few other random objects that must have been pulled out of the plastic containers that are stacked on the side of the couch. Bucky must have missed them last night.

Steve looks up when he walks in, smiling gently at Bucky, his eyes wandering down to the cup in Bucky’s hand.

“I meant to make breakfast,” Steve explains sheepishly. “Got distracted, I guess.”

Bucky takes a look into the plastic container to find a plethora of random objects. There are novels, notebooks, clothing, and even some glasses stacked against each other.

“What is this stuff?” Bucky asks, sitting down next to Steve.

Steve holds out the notebook in his hand and Bucky takes it after placing down his coffee, realizing that it’s actually a sketchbook. The page it’s turned to has a portrait of an elderly lady, a soft smile drawn on her lips and eyes looking away.

“Holy shit,” Bucky hums quietly, recognizing the style instantly. “Did you draw this?”

“Years ago,” Steve confirms, eyebrows scrunched together as he stares at the drawing.

Bucky looks back to the container and it finally dawns on him what it all is. “These are things from your old apartment?”

Steve nods. “Some of it. The rest is in a museum.”

“This is really good,” Bucky tells him. “Who is she?”

“My neighbor. She, uh, watched over me a lot when I was sick and my ma was at work. Probably wouldn’t be here without her.”

Bucky wordlessly flips to the next page to find a sketch of what appears to be a living room. It’s nearly empty with only a couch and a lamp in the corner. There’s a window with flowing curtains, like they were just caught in the wind when Steve decided to draw them.

“That was my apartment,” Steve tells him quietly. “Not quite as nice as my new one.”

Bucky looks down to the drawing and shrugs. “You made it seem nice. I could probably sleep on that couch.”

This gets a smile out of Steve. “Could’ve been nice to have a roommate.”

Bucky is the one to smile at this, flicking back down to the sketchbook to turn the page. When he sees the next drawing, though, he feels like he’s going through something he shouldn’t. It’s another portrait of an older woman, but she’s not smiling like the other. She’s staring directly at Bucky with an intense gaze that makes him look away to Steve.

“This is your mom,” he says, no trace of a question in his words. He’s never seen a photograph of her, but something about it is easily recognizable.

Steve nods then, jaw tightening as he looks at it. “I drew it a few days before she died. I always showed her all my drawings but I didn’t show her this one. I knew she wouldn’t like how she looked.”

“She’s beautiful,” Bucky says, meaning it. Despite how sick she clearly looks, there’s something strong and feminine about her. The careful way her lips are pressed together and the gaze her of her eyes reminds Bucky a little of Steve.

Steve says nothing, and Bucky takes the hint, flipping to the next page to find an innocuous drawing of a park. Bucky silently goes through the rest of the sketchbook, careful to keep his fingers from smudging the charcoal. He feels like he should be wearing protective gloves, like he’s damaging historic evidence of a life that Steve once lived.

Eventually, though, once Bucky’s paged to the last drawing (another of the living room), Steve clears his throat. “She would have liked you,” he finally says.

Bucky cocks his head at him, confused.

“Ma,” he clarifies. “If she would’ve got to meet you, she would have liked you.”

Closing the sketchbook, Bucky smiles to himself. It drops slightly, though, before he asks, “Even if she knew about the two of us?”

Steve huffs out a laugh when he hears this. “We lived in a very colorful neighborhood,” he tells Bucky. “I think she could’ve made peace with it.”

“And you. Did you make peace with it back then?” Bucky asks abruptly. He’s always been curious, but too scared to broach the subject.

“It was easier to ignore it. I would’ve, too. But then I woke up and there was no need to anymore.”

Bucky swallows thickly, thinking absently of the gossip magazines with his and Steve’s faces posted all over them. He’s not even sure if Steve’s seen them. “And now?”

Steve reaches over and grabs Bucky’s hand, their fingers easily entwining. “Kind of just want to be your boyfriend.”

“Thought you were already.”

“That was presumptuous of you,” Steve teases, now smiling widely at Bucky.

Bucky leans into him, leaving the sketchbook on the coffee table. “It was.”

They sit in silent for a few moments. Bucky keeps his head on Steve’s shoulder and closes his eyes, the busy streets of mid-Manhattan completely silent with how far up they are.

“You’ve seen the photos, haven’t you?” Bucky finally asks.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, no panic in his voice whatsoever. “Tony got a slew of emails with links to the articles when we got back.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

There is a long silence, and Bucky finally has to move away, so that he can see Steve’s face. He’s not nearly as contemplative as Bucky would’ve expected. Instead, he’s smiling softly when he shrugs. Then, he slowly puts the sketchbook back in the storage container and puts the lid back on it.

“You wanna go get breakfast?” he asks then.

Bucky smiles and nods, and when they leave the building, there’s no hesitance at all when Steve grabs his hand.

***

“And what’s this?” Steve asks, holding up an old Rubik’s Cube that Bucky’s had on his dresser for years.

“It’s a Rubik’s cube,” Bucky tells him, looking back down to play random chords on his guitar. “You’re supposed to get it so the colors are all the same on each side.”

Steve is still fiddling with the toy when he looks back up, his fingers twisting it randomly. He’s only got on a pair of underwear (most likely Bucky’s) as he rummages around the random objects Bucky keeps on his dresser. “Who is Rubik?” he asks then.

“I have no clue,” Bucky responds thoughtfully. “We should Google that later.”

Nodding, Steve squints at the toy, still working at it. “Have you ever actually gotten it?”

Bucky snorts. “Probably not.”

The two of them have spent most of the day in Bucky’s bedroom, lounging around until they’re ready to feverishly make out again. Bucky’s hair is stringy and pushed behind his ears as he plays random songs on the guitar, Steve occasionally humming along crudely out of tune to the ones he knows. He must’ve gotten bored, though, and it led to the way he’s picking through Bucky’s belongings.

It’s been weeks since the first photographs of the two of them were released, and after a media frenzy only fueled by Bucky and Steve’s respective social media (and one post from Sam that was captioned, “So sick of these idiots always making me the third wheel.”), everything eventually returned to normal.

“And this?” he asks now, holding up a pastel blue Polaroid remake that Bucky’s grandmother had given him for Christmas a year ago.

Bucky smiles and puts the guitar aside, gesturing for Steve to bring it to him. Steve hands it over, watching curiously as Bucky checks to make sure there is still more film left and then brings it up to his face to peer through the viewfinder. He lines Steve up and then clicks the shutter button, the camera emitting a small clicking noise before a photo starts to print out of the side of it.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” Steve asks, sitting down next to Bucky to look at the little picture that’s yet to develop.

“Yeah,” Bucky tells him. “It’s a Polaroid. They used to be really popular in, like, the sixties, but this one is newer. It prints out your photos right when you take them.”

Slowly, the picture of Steve starts to appear on the paper, and Steve gasps audibly as he watches. “Wow,” he hums, taking the photo from Bucky to look at it closer.

He only hands it back so he can snag the camera from Bucky and stand up, bringing it to his face and aiming the lens right at Bucky. “Smile!” Steve encourages, having to pull the camera away from his face quickly to find the shutter button. He’s had some practice with Bucky’s other camera, snapping random photographs of Brooklyn or of Bucky’s apartment in their downtime.

Bucky hides his face reflexively, laughing into his palms as Steve scoffs. “You always do this,” Steve says stubbornly. “You take photos of everyone, and you won’t let me take a single photo of you.”

Childishly, Bucky removes his hands from his face and scowls at Steve.

“Smile,” Steve demands, still waiting with his hand over the shutter button. “I know you want to. Come on, Buck. I’ll promise I’ll give you a bunch of kisses if you just – ”

Inevitably, Bucky does smile, shaking his head as he laughs to himself and Steve quickly snaps the photo and the flash goes off.

Steve beams at the undeveloped print and sits next to Bucky as he waits for the image to appear. Leaning over, he loudly kisses Bucky’s check. Bucky rolls his eyes but leans into the touch, watching his face appear on the Polaroid.

In it, Bucky isn’t looking towards the lens, and instead slightly off, a goofy smile on his face as he laughs at Steve. He was moving, so it’s slightly blurry, but there’s something Bucky likes about the picture. It reminds him of the one Steve had taken of him on the rooftop.

“I like it,” Steve says quietly, pulling Bucky closer.

Bucky smiles at it. “I do, too.”


End file.
